Carve Me A Grave With My Name On It
by Tab Jotbins
Summary: Mum, don't worry about me anymore. I'll be fine where I'm going. Tell everyone I loved them. Especially Hermione. Tell Harry I have nothing to say. Your son, Ronald Weasley
1. Troubled

Disclaimer: Everything is J.K. Rowling's. The plot remains my own, thank you very much.

Carve Me A Grave With My Name On It 

From a dark hidden corridor, he watched them. His best friend was towering over her. She was the love of his life, and his best friend was advancing on her. His _best friend_. And she welcomed him with open arms, literally. And the next moment, they were in a tight embrace as though the world had stopped.

And it had. Ron stood there, invisible to the world around watching his best friend hold Hermione like it was the end of the world. And it was the end of the world. For Ron, it was the end of his life. 

"Bloody traitor," he muttered under his breath, not letting his eyes off of Harry. 

Memories began to wash into his mind like tidal waves. _It all makes sense now_, Ron thought. Why she wanted to be their friends in the first place. Sorry, it was only Harry's friendship she wanted. Why she had always thought Harry's welfare came first before his. Hermione fancied Harry Potter all her life. It was earth shattering to Ron. 

He grimaced at the thought of their fourth year, when Harry and he had had a fight about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He knew deep down that Harry had not placed his name in that stupid goblet. But jealousy had overcome him and he could only surrender to the feeling.

 All Ron had wanted was comfort from a friend. And the only friend he had was Hermione. But no, she was too busy with Harry, making sure he was safe and feeling okay. Sure, she came to him once and a while, trying to convince him Harry was not at fault. Did she not care that Ron had known that already and there was more to it? It sure as anything did not seem that way.

It was always Harry. Hermione always wanted him.

            By the time he realized that his eyes were streaming tears, Harry and Hermione were gone. _Of course they're gone_, Ron though to himself, _they'd never stay a second anywhere too public when they're by themselves_. It was getting dark outside the Hogwarts castle, and the lit corridors were starting to darken like the one he was hidden in. 

            It was then that he made up his mind. Ronald Weasley would be no more. His mind set, he slowly walked through the castle halls back to the Gryffindor Tower where he could plan his methods. Normally, the Astronomy Tower was his ace chamber to wallow in his depression, but he had a strong feeling that it would be in use by two hormonally charged Gryffindors. 

"I need to write to Mum. But then, of course, she wouldn't mind, one less son to spend money on," he said to himself.  He was well aware he was talking to himself, and that he would be in deep soot if he were heard, but he had also left Harry's Invisibility cloak back in the dark corridor, leaving him detectable. It wouldn't matter if I get caught, he thought, I'll be gone sooner than you'll know it anyway.

"Ronald Weasley will be no more," he sang softly, chuckling at the thought of Harry and Hermione finding him somewhere, limp and lifeless. "Ronald Weasley will be no more."

The boy's dormitory was dark when Ron arrived, but of course, being the after hours, it would be. While Neville was snoring like an overgrown pig, though, Dean and Seamus sounded quite awake, talking about the Quidditch match coming up between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. As sneaky and stealthily as he could, Ron tried to creep to his bed. He didn't want them to acknowledge his presence or else he would be forced to talk to them. 

It was no use though, as soon as he stepped inside the dim chamber, his foot got caught in a pair of boxers. Frantically but still in silence, he tried to shake them off, out of sheer disgust for his roommates' disorganized habits, even he too was quite messy, and those boxers could've been his own. Struggling to disentangle the boxers, fate played against him, and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor, knotted in a disarray of clothes, boxers, robes and smelly socks.

"Ron, didn't see you there."

            Sounded like Seamus, from under the clothes. 

            "Maybe we should clean this place up a bit," he said, yawning, "Haven't seen Harry, have you? Been wondering if he's going to play a good game at the match and concentrates on the Snitch and not that Ravenclaw seeker again." 

            Frustrated by his own actions and bringing attention to himself, Ron, stood up. Kicking his way amid the mess, he ignored Seamus and climbed into his four-poster bed, violently shutting his curtains, almost ripping the fabric. Seamus and Dean obviously had gotten the message that the fiery red head was flaming with rage. A little frightening by Ron's actions, the two allowed silence to fill the room, and drifted into a world of sleep and dreams. But the fiery one stayed up all night.

            Lying there, Ron thought about what he was going to be letting go. The first image was of his mother. He pictured her, crying over the open coffin his body was placed in. Her once bright red hair had lost its sheen and her face was weary. A twinge of guilt started to overcome Ron. _No_, he thought,_ it will be better after the initial shock of when she first hears word of my death_. It would be okay he tried to convince himself. They'd get over it after a short while. Ginny also entered his mind. Tears rolling down her cheeks. Her frail body sitting in a corner, trying to take in the fact it was true that Ron was only a nuisance and waste of space. Another pang of guilt hit him. 

            That was the only problem for Ron. Every time he thought of the hurt he would cause his family, guilt always held him back. He admitted to himself that the only reason he hadn't done the deed that night was because he wanted to make sure his family understood why his actions would be justified. And soon after they'd hear of his death, they'd grieve for a while, and soon after realize that they have one less person to spend their money on. Yes, the Weasleys were still poor as dirt, and Ron's death would allow them to save some money. _See Ron_, he mused himself, _some good will come out of this_.

            After thoughts of his family passed, the red head tried to ease his way into slumber for what seemed like hours, but it wouldn't work. Nothing ever works, he thought. Sighing, he rolled over in his bed, slightly pulled the curtain to the side, and reached for his wand from the bedside table. As he closed the curtain once again, he sat up, searching the pouches of his beat up robes for an old pocket watch his grandfather gave him. He found it and got his wand out.

            "Lumos," he whispered and the wand was lit. He pointed it at the watch. It read 3:28 AM. 

_What the hell!_ his mind screamed at him, _where in all of England is this bloody guy?_ The thought of Harry being out so long with Hermione made him sick. Even more than being sick, it made him angry. 

"If that boy thinks he could mess around with a girl like this!" Ron yelled yet he didn't realize it, "And her to let him! Argh! Harry Potter, when I get my …"

            Suddenly, he heard a loud thump.

            "Ron? Ron, was that you?" 

            It was Harry. 

            "Sure as hell was me. What the devil were you thinking staying out so long? What were you doing?" Again, he was yelling without realizing so.

            "Didn't know you were PMSing, Mum."

Ron figured Harry was waiting for a reply. _Hah, as if I would_, he cogitated. His silence proved to Harry that Ron was waiting for his answer. 

"Calm down, Ron, I was out with Hermione," Harry began, as though it was an everyday, or in this case, night thing, "We were studying. She was helping me with the most recent charms and potions we were learning in class. Cause you know what happens when my scar sears on my forehead. You know how Dumbledore wants me to tell him everything so I could help defeat Voldemort… ("Don't say his name!") I was falling behind, and she said she'd help me."

_Bugger_, as if Ron had believed that. This was partially because he could sense the nervousness and anxiety in Harry's voice; he kind of mumbled the last part. It was also because Harry didn't know that Ron had seen them sneaking off several hours ago. So, Ron just sat in bed, pointing his wand at the red velvet curtain separating him from the outside world. He was alienated from outside world with Harry, the boy who went from the boy who lived to the boy who should have died.

Ron just stared at the color of the curtain. It was a dark red that reminded him of blood. A smirk suddenly appeared on his face as he associated the curtains with blood. Insane it was for him to sit there and smile at the thought of such a thing. And he sat like that, smirking for a few minutes. Forgetting the fact that Harry was still waiting for Ron's approval of his being so late.

"Ron?" Harry asked, "Ron? Are you asleep?"

_Well if I was asleep I wouldn't be able to tell you, now would I?_ he contemplated. Ron didn't want to answer him. Going back into a lying position, he put his watch back into his pocket, and carefully put his wand back on his nightstand so Harry couldn't see. He then heard footsteps coming closer_. Damn bugger has to check now_, he thought, _does he?_ And Harry did. He pulled back Ron's drapery and found him under the covers sleeping. It was annoying for Ron it lie so motionlessly. He even had to fake some soft snoring sounds to convince the bastard to go back to his bed. 

"Alright then," Ron heard Harry sigh.

_You bet it's all right,_ Ron grimaced. He heard Harry step into the dormitory's lavatory. It was now his turn to let out a sigh. Sadly, all his frustration and depression came surging back to him.

"By this time tomorrow, you'll be sorry you ever thought of touching Hermione. Then it'll be your turn to feel the pain of loosing someone," he whispered softly, "Bloody traitor."


	2. Tired

Dawn seemed to arrive too early for Ron's fondness that next morning. It meant he would have to dress for breakfast, enter the Great Hall alone, avoid Harry, Hermione and everyone else for that matter, and attend classes. He decided to wait till classes were off for the day before he'd start writing to his family and then end his existence. But something more had bothered him that early sunrise. 

As he had not a single wink of sleep during the night, Ron had took the time to think more, even after Harry's return. He began to feel a determination to do what he had in his mind. The next day would be his last, and nothing would stop him. As guilty and selfish it made him feel, Ron knew everyone would get over it. Ron knew no one had truly cared about him. _What would make them change now?_

Strangely though, Ron felt a sudden chill in the air around him. Normally he would've thought he was on the edge of insanity, but he had thought he heard voices. His skepticism was conformed as the voices gradually increased in volume. The most unusual thing about it was that it made him feel doubtful. He could feel his wall of willpower starting to crack and crumble till he was again filled with confusion. _Good gods_, he had remembered thinking. 

_"Why did he do it?"_

It was a female speaking. The voice didn't address Ron, but it sounded so familiar to him. 

_"I…"_ The voice faltered. This one was male. _"I don't know exactly."_

_"You don't think he knew… Do you?"_

_"You don't think it was…"_ Again the male hesitated.

_"No…"_ It sounded as though the girl was starting to cry. He could even hear the deep breaths she took as she spoke. _"Ron, no! You didn't… Please… No… Come back… No… I could've changed… I didn't know…"_

The voices were drifting away. The last syllable of the girl's voice seemed to carry on forever. Truthfully, it was the girl's last words that left Ron in a state of anxiety and confusion. He realized whom the voices belonged to; he wasn't a fool. It was Hermione. _And Harry_, he added to himself as an afterthought. But the voices left him clutching his sheets, eyes wide. 

"No," Ron spoke suddenly. He wasn't worried to wake anyone. They were all in deep sleep. "You can't change my mind! I won't let you."

His strength was returning. Perhaps the voices were only his conscience taking swings at his wall of will. Although, they left him wavering between the rights and wrongs of his actions, but he knew that there was one thing to do. He would do it regardless of what his mind was telling him. It was time for him to do what his cold broken heart demanded.

Ron remained in his bed till sun slowly rose from its own bed on the horizon. All he did that night was stare at the insides of his four-poster. All he did was contemplate and allow his conscience to wreak havoc on his sanity. By the morning he decided that he'd not only write to his family, but he'd also leave something little for Hermione. He figured it was the thought of her taking the aftermath that caused his instability that night.  _But then again, what does she care?_ he reminded himself, _now she'll have Harry all the time._

"She never cared, and I doubt… No, I know, she'll never change," the boy voiced in a hoarse whisper to himself as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. 

After chucking his old robes he never changed out of for the night on the floor ("I'll clean it later," he had promised himself.), the tired red head gathered a fresh new load and drowsily stepped into the bathrooms to shower. No one else was up yet, so he had free reign of the bathroom's perks. Hot water was a new thing for him, since he would usually be up the latest in the morning and his parents didn't have the money for heated water. But it didn't matter; he wasn't in the mood for heat. 

Ron let the ice cold water hit like a bucket of knives. Silently, he almost hoped that they really were knives. The urge to see his own blood made him almost hungry for pain. But he could wait. Convincing himself a while ago he would never do something petty like cut himself for a way to vent out hidden emotions, he reminded himself that the real act of self-revenge was only several hours later. He could wait.

The icy shower left Ron feeling fresh, though his emotions were still running on high. Taking his time, he pulled his clothes on and decided to take a good look at himself in the mirror, since the boys still weren't awake. He took out his watch again, and saw that it was only 6:30 AM. He pocketed it and sauntered over to the mirror. One last look before it's over, he told himself.

"Like what you see, do you? Pansy prat," the mirror had said to him.

"Shut up, stupid inanimate object," Ron snapped at it.

As swift as he could, he whirled around and commenced his journey to the Great Hall for breakfast for the last time, alone.  He didn't know exactly why he tried to dramatically stride to the large hall. Perhaps it was the fact that it didn't matter to him, how foolish he looked. _Hey, Snape does it all the time_, his mind reminded him. _What am I doing trying to act like Snape?_ he then mentally scolded himself.

Ron continued his outing to the hall in his Snape-like fashion. Suddenly, it struck him as amusing.

"Look at me, I'm Severus Snape, and I'm a lousy git of a potions master. Watch me as I strut through the corridors with my robes billowing out behind me as though I were an overgrown bat" he laughed out. 

Perchance, it was a little too loudly that he laughed for the real potions master rounded the corner that Ron was coming to. He stopped in his tracks, a little nervous as to whether or not the older man had heard Ron mocking him. Snape only walked over to him. He glared at Ron, as though he were shooting daggers at him with only his eyes. _I wish he really would,_ he mused.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," was all the slimy haired man said. In his normal striding fashion, Snape continued walking. 

Ron didn't dare, nor care, to look back at him. He had lost twenty points from his house just for having a bit of fun. Starting up his pace again, he too continued walking towards his destination. Unfortunately for Ron, the remaining distance to the Hall was short and uneventful. Such things depressed him, but he was used to it.

"Oh bugger," he said to himself as he entered the Great Hall. The place was completely empty, except for the High Table. The only occupants there at the time were McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, and Flitwick. They looked at Ron questioningly as he entered, alone and silent. Their gazes never left him until he sat down at Gryffindor table, where Ron sat with his back toward them, only so he couldn't tell if they looked at him or not. Perhaps they cared to watch him because it was quite unusual for Ron to be seen without accompanying Harry and Hermione, let alone for a student to be up at such an early hour. Perhaps they'd even seen the look of defeat and sadness on his face. As though they'd care, he thought.

 Alone and cold Ron sat in the large hall. There wasn't much to eat at the time; the house elves had probably only begun to prepare breakfast. He helped himself to a glass of pumpkin juice. Taking a long drink from his glass, he decided to get a start on his letters to Mum and Hermione. No one would notice him writing a letter about his own death, for it seemed like he was only finishing the last of his assignments. _But then again,_ he thought bitterly, _no one would notice period._ And so, taking out some parchment, a quill and ink, Ron began his letter.

_Dear Mum,_

I don't know when you'll get this and I don't know if you've already gotten word…

_Bloody stupid way to start a letter to your mum, now isn't it Weasley?_ he mused. He ignored his thoughts and continued on.

_… Don't be upset and don't worry about me. I'll be fine where I'm going. Wherever it is that I'm going. Heck, maybe I'm not going anywhere! Maybe I'll stay here, be a ghost and share the first floor girls' toilet with Moaning Myrtle…_

_Ugh, forget it, Weasley_. Ron threw his quill aside, packed his ink away and took another gulp of pumpkin juice. He read over what he wrote and laughed at his own inanity. His letter could've been written by a five year old and still it could've been written better. He set the parchment down on the table and took a good look around at the Great Hall. The windows were giant and arched, he noticed, and let sunlight pour inside the chamber like a waterfall would water. The enchanted ceiling gave the impression of the outside sky, bright with the sun, and blue with hints of pink and orange. One would think such a morning was too brilliant, but little did it know about the suicidal plans forming in the mind of Ron Weasley.

There was a medley of giggling, laughter and conversation heard coming from the corridors outside of the Great Hall. The rest of school was finally awake to seize the day and attend their classes. They didn't enter all at once, the students. Slowly they surged into the hall and sat at their appropriate tables. It took nearly an hour and half for the whole school to sit down for breakfast. Ron hadn't noticed his surroundings before. Nor hadn't he noticed that his two former best friends had just arrived.  

"Hey Ron," greeted Harry. Ron avoided eye contact, but gave him a nod of the head. Harry looked down at the parchment Ron had been writing on. "What have you got there?"

Panicking, Ron realized he had left his letter clear in sight. Harry was about to grab it, but Ron snatched it away before he could have the chance to read one word of it. He shoved it into his bag, making sure it wouldn't ever fall out, or be found. Relieved that he had almost given away his plans, he saw it fit to answer the scarred boy as casually as possible.

"Just some last minute writing assignments…."

Harry and Hermione gave him strange looks. 

"You know, the essay from Professor Binns…" Ron started to panic. They sat there, in front of him, looking at him as though they could see right through him. "The one about the muggle religions and how wizards helped carve their beliefs… You know, that one."

He almost pleaded for them to believe him. But it was true that they had such an essay. 

"Ron, that essay was due 2 weeks ago," stated Hermione, matter-of-factly.

"Well, I handed it in, but dead and decayed Binns wanted to me to rewrite… And so I have," he replied as suavely as he could.

"Oh," she said, piling some pancakes onto her plate. Never would she truly look at him. The action was one that broke away at his heart consistently. "Would you like me to check it over for you?"

"No!" Ron almost yelled. Hermione finally looked at him directly in the eyes. Or at least she tried. Ron wouldn't permit her to see the sadness in his eyes. He wouldn't allow himself to look at her either. He wouldn't let her see the tears form in his eyes as he thought about how much he had loved her, and she'd brushed him off. Tears were burning his sockets that were already in pain from lack of sleep. There was no way he could let his so-called friends see him in his state of pain. "I have to go to the library."

"But, you haven't eaten anything!" Hermione called at his back, as he raised from the table to go.

"I had juice before you came," he spoke softy. _Funny for you to care_, a voice roared in the back of his head. Not even taking one last look at the breakfasting bunch of students, Ron headed for the door.

"Since when did you ever go to the library" Harry's voice yelled.

He chose to ignore it and kept walking further, hanging his sleepless, tiresome head. At the door, Ron stumbled into someone. Without even apologizing, or looking back, he continued walking.

"Mr. Weasley," came a voice. It petrified Ron only because that voice belonged to the headmaster. He had walked into Dumbledore, hadn't noticed nor apologized. _Bloody git_, Ron yelled at himself. "Not staying for breakfast, young man?"

"No, sir," he kept his head down, "I'm not really in the mood for it."

"Ah, I see. Carry on then, but please, do hold you head up and watch where you're going." He looked thoughtful for a second, and the old man gazed down slightly to glance at the boy in front of him. "If ever you need anything… You know where I am."

For the first time, Ron looked up at him. The old man's eyes seemed to lack in something. _Fire,_ Ron told himself. But he knew it was because of the ongoing war with the Dark Lord. He was sure his own eyes, too, were missing something. Perhaps Dumbledore could read his eyes and his heart. Maybe he could tell what Ron had planned for himself. _No,_ a voice called, _no, Weasley, he doesn't know_. For all the man knew, he probably thought that Harry and he had only been in a fight, and Dumbledore would only tell Ron to give the boy break. Just like everything, no one cared about him, they only worried for Harry.

With that, Ron left the hall, and continued his walk. But it wasn't not to the library. No, it was to the Astronomy Tower. 


	3. Tainted

_If only the tower wasn't so far away_, thought Ron angrily. He had been hiking up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower in a fowl mood in light of recent events during his walk. As soon as he left the Great Hall, and bumped into Dumbledore without even apologizing, things seemed to spiral downward for him. Never had a trek through the corridors of the castle been so exasperating. 

The hallways were not crowded as they'd be between classes, but nor were they as empty as one would like. Ron had trudged through the hallways only to be barricaded by a bunch of foolhardy Slytherin first-years. They really asked for Ron to give them a true whipping as they deserved. First, the rowdy group seemed to be gathering around for something. As hard as he could he tried yelling at them.

"Excuse me, but the corridors are for walking not blocking," he called out, towering over them. It finally registered, what he had just said. _That mirror was right; I am a prat._

The irritating first-years wouldn't budge. For a couple minutes he stood there, trying to understand what was going on. At last, Ron had had enough of these children and he decided he might as well take matters into his own hand, by the use of his wand. With a swish and flick of the wrist, the crowd of Slytherins parted, almost the way Moses had parted the waters on his escape to wherever it was he was going. Some of the kids were shoved into the opposite sides of the hall, while others squeezed against them. They left a nice space for Ron to walk through.

As he strode through, Ron looked at the faces of the first-years. _The buggers deserved it_, he mulled over bitterly. After he passed them, he glanced back at them. Surely someone would relieve them of the hex. He couldn't help but feel guilty that he had just manipulated them like that, Slytherin-demon children or not. He sighed. _So much for my fun._

 "Finite incantatum," he said wearisomely, pointing his wand at the group of children pressed against each other. Watching the little first-years stretching out their pressured muscles from the hex, Ron laughed inside. Some looked back at him, glaring. Others seemed to regard him with fear and rushed to get away in the opposite direction. One little boy even had the nerve to threaten him, Ron, a more experienced wizard in his sixth year. 

"When Draco Malfoy gets a hold of you, you'll be sorry!"

Ron laughed at this. Replacing his wand in his robe's pocket, he gave the young boy in front of him a deadly glare that could match that of a basilisk's.  "The day Malfoy gets a hold of me will be the day he gets a hold of that thing up his…"

"My what?" came a drawling voice.

_Damn it, Malfoy_, Ron yelled mentally. "Don't push me, ferret boy, I'm not in the mood to tango. You saw what I did to your little house mates, did you not?"

"Empty threat, weasel. You're all talk."

            "Oh, am I?" Ron roared back fiercely. He could feel his face reddening out of anger and frustration. When the Weasley said he wasn't in the mood, he had really meant it. All over again he whipped out his wand, pointing it straight and steady at Malfoy's head. Maybe it was the fact that the boy had never seen such an insane look on Ron's face for him to almost cower back in fear. For a moment the two older boys stood there, unaware that the first years were gazing at them. Malfoy seemed to regain his control, for he was fumbling to get his own wand out. Ron only pushed his wand into the blonde boy's forehead. "Tempt me, and I swear I'll hex you so badly, it'll take Pomfrey weeks before you can function, no, even think properly again. Now get out of my sight."

            With that Ron pushed the Slytherin out of his way and continued on his path. It was interesting though, as he had expected Malfoy to curse him with his back turned to get revenge. But all he had really done was turn his attention to his own trip to the Great Hall. Putting the boy out of his mind, Ron slowed his pace, and sauntered on. He grinned to himself. _Never, ever, enrage a Weasley._    

            The journey sustained for several long minutes. Passing by numerous, empty, silver plated faces that had not belonged to the Hogwart's resident ghosts, Ron felt as though he were racing through the Dark Forest, only it was filled with surreal, dreamlike creatures. All the students he passed seemed to look at him with amazement, as though Ron was an animal running around the lengths of a cage, struggling to get out. All they'd do was turn their heads to gaze at him quickly, and then return to whatever it had been they were doing. Minutes seemed to last for hours as Ron quickened his pace, in panic. 

At long last he reached the steps that led him to his safe haven. Everyone knew it was forbidden to wander up there, to the Astronomy Tower alone. But it hadn't mattered, since classes there were only held during the night, mainly on Saturdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It was Tuesday morning. Ron could sneak up there and stay for as long as he wanted. He spun around in sudden, almost violent movements to see if there were stray students or teachers around. _Of course they wouldn't be, they're at the Great Hall_, he reminded himself. And as swiftly as he could, he hurdled up the stairs, skipping three steps at a time. _The faster I get there, the longer I have._

Reaching the platform at the top of the tower, Ron pulled his wand out of his sleeve. He determined that it would be safer for him to keep it close at hand, in case, anyone was to do anything to him. Placing his hand on the handle, he gave the oak door a firm push, only to find it was locked. As it always is… He pointed his wand at the lock and racked his brain for a helpful charm.

"Ugh. Now what was that spell… Oh yeah. How can I forget," speaking to himself as fond memories of their – Hermione's, Harry's and his—first year attending Hogwarts flooded the depths of his mind. The crew, himself, and Neville were out for a Midnight Duel against Malfoy and his thuggish cronies. It ended being a trick to be caught by Filch. _Lousy coward,_ he thought bitterly as Malfoy entered his mind. They were almost caught, when Hermione heroically unlocked the door, after muttering a word, and they safely were in. Or so they had thought… But that had been a thing of the past. Ron felt a smile on his face appear as he remembered the good old days when they had all been friends. _Or so I thought…_

"_Alohamora_," he spoke gently and with a clicking sound, he replaced his grasp on the knob, turned it, and found himself in a dimly lit room. 

The only light making the surroundings visible came from the two arched windows, on opposite sides of the room. There were desk and chairs scattered around the room. But the most prominent feature of the room was the large, circular table made of a rich mahogany lying in the center of the tower platform. This was where the star charts were assessed, and where lesson charts were used to map out the activity of the sky. Though Ron had slightly disliked this class, he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of the room. Anyone in the right sense could see what splendor this room had held.

Ron searched for his usual spot to sit. He would venture here, the tower, often, during both day and night. Ever since fourth year, he sought refuge in this gloomy, but precious room. With each break from class of the day, he'd come up here to collect his thoughts. At times when Ron was really desperate he'd bring parchment and quills, and just write whatever kinds of feelings bleed out of him. In the end, the poor sheet, dripping with human emotion, would be flamed, and its remains were defenestrated of. And not too far the window, he'd usually sit, Ron. His regular chair, just outside the lines of light, was still there. Ambling over, the young man sat down.

His mind was wild activity. Ron closed his eyes to try and settle down the uprising of mental commotion. Soon enough, he could feel himself teetering between the worlds of subconscious and reality. A jostle of the upper body, and Ron was finally calm. He had lost his memory of why he came here in the first place. Putting his head in his hands and taking long breaths, he set his mind free to think. It was not long till he had remembered breakfast. _Oh yes_. It was because he couldn't face the people he had once considered friends. The fact that they had almost found out about his letter had disturbed him. He wouldn't let those people ruin his plans. Ron sighed as he let his mind flow elsewhere.

The light streaming from the arched windows suddenly attracted Ron's attention. Taking it as a sign, he peered out looking skyward. Clouds. Sun. Birds. _Yes, just how the Great Hall's damn ceiling had depicted it, all together spiffing_. But then, glancing westbound, he noticed a new marvel. The full moon was still up. As though it were instinct, his eyes shot toward the forest. _Werewolves._ His mind began to race again. (Perhaps he should've tried to sleep that night. He grimaced, as he remembered why he didn't.)

It was their third year. Harry had gotten his Firebolt mysteriously during Christmas and Ron had been ecstatic about it. But Hermione had other plans. She had told McGonagall about it, how it might've been from Sirius Black, who at the time was thought to be a dangerous convict. The old dingbat of a professor took the broomstick away, crushing both Harry's and his happiness. Ron remembered the way the both of them treated her, and painfully, Ron regretted ever handling her in such a manner. The way she broke down crying, her tears staining the porcelain perfection of her skin, it all stabbed him in his heart. Hermione never deserved that.

He searched more into the corners and depths of his mind. It all came back to Ron. The way Hermione had helped him so much. He remembered the way she had been there to play chess and study with him during all those Quidditch practices Harry was at. She never seemed to mind when Harry was away. Those were the glorious moments they had together. Ever so smart the witch was, and so beautiful. Ron couldn't remember when it was that he fell for her. All he could recollect was the sudden realization of it in fourth year.

The Yule Ball was announced and everybody was enthralled by the news. By the time Christmas had come around, everyone had dates. All except for Ron and Harry, that was. Even Hermione had a date, but she never told anyone who it was. Well, she told Ginny, but she was so trustworthy that she wouldn't tell even a soul. It only came as a shock when Ron heard of the news that she was already taken. It broke him, but he never showed it. He only continued to ask whom this mystery man was that had swept Hermione off her feet. It was at the Ball that Ron had actually seen her with him. 

Ron looked for his Quidditch hero, Viktor Krum, and as he found him, he saw her. The most gorgeous sight, in pale blue dress robes that looked like they made her float, Hermione came in, escorted by Krum himself. He remembered feeling the boiling rage inside of himself. Just the remembrance of that night had made him turn red with anger and pain. The row that the he and Hermione had had that night wasn't quite pleasing either.

Ron snapped out of his memory as he heard a sudden hoot of an owl out side the window.  It was carrying a note, so he figured he might as well let it in. As he pushed the pane open, the brown barn owl rushed in, dropping the note into his hands. As quick as it had come in, it flew out with out even stopping for a treat, though Ron didn't have anything. He watched the bird soar out of sight, feeling guilty for not being able to show his thanks. He frowned at his feelings. _What is wrong with you?_ he pondered to himself. With out another thought, he proceeded to open the message that was sent to him.

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_ ― Loopy handwriting, no doubt it was from Dumbledore― 

            _Please remember what I had said to you earlier. Come when you need. Also, I believe you should get to class, as you seem to be considerably late._

_                                                                                    Sincerely,_

_                                                                                                Albus Dumbledore_

            _Late?_ Ron fumbled in search of his pocket watch. He finally found it sitting in his slacks pocket. Standing up, he pulled the watch open. The hands were aligned in the form clearly stating that he was incredibly late. _Ugh! And what day is it? Tuesday. Shit! Potions! _Ron panicked not for the first time this morning. Throwing his watch into his bag, he grabbed all his stuff and ran out the door, nearly crashing into the center table. Snape was going to kill him. He nearly tripped as he made his mad dash down the stairs. Ron made it into the corridors, where he stopped to take a quick breath. Surely, if he didn't kill himself, the insufferable Potions Master would. _Hey, it'd save me the trouble, _he contemplated, as he started a brisk walk through the corridors leading to the dungeons. 


	4. Toiled

Four corridors, two staircases, and one stop at the lavatory later, Ron finally arrived at the dungeons where Snape held his potions classes. Slightly out of breath, he stopped outside the chamber door. Nervous as he was, Ron knew he could take whatever the spiteful professor threw his way. Detentions wouldn't matter as he wouldn't be able to attend them dead, and losing House points were the least of his cares. Taking a last deep breath, he slowly pushed the door open, to see that his fellow Housemates and the Slytherins noticed his late entrance.

            "Mr. Weasley, how pleasant for you to grace us with your presence," said a deep, sullen voice from the head of the dungeon. _No problem, Snape_, Ron grinned to himself. "Are you aware that this class has begun approximately twenty minutes ago?"

            "Am I that late?" Ron replied without even thinking about whom he was speaking to. The Slytherins snickered as they sensed he was in deep shit. Ron himself realized this the moment he got Dumbledore's message. 

            Snape ignored his comment. _That's not good…_ his mind sensed. "Due to you extreme tardiness, forty points will be taken from Gryffindor House, and if I'm not mistaken, Weasley, you had also lost an additional twenty this morning? Your Housemates should thank you for their drop from the top spot for the House Cup." 

Ron knew Snape was encouraging him. He ignored it, and waited for Snape to state how many detentions he would be attending. "Also, as punishment, you will be serving a week's worth of detentions with either me or Filch. Now, if you would, find a seat," he ended with a sneer.

            Sighing, Ron dragged his things and sat down at a table in the very back, in a dark corner of the chilly room. Leisurely, he took out his cauldron and materials, ignoring the looks of triumph on the Slytherins' faces and the defeated expressions of his fellow Gryffindors. They'd get over it. As soon as Harry did something heroic and victorious, his House would again be in the lead, and the Slytherins would be grim and vulgar once again. Taking out a quill, he looked up to see Snape glaring at him. _What now?_

            "If you would please join us and take a seat somewhere a little more…"

            "It's just as dark and dreary back here as it is there. Believe me, _sir_," Ron tried his best to sneer, "I'm not missing much."

            That did it. If looks had the ability to kill, Ron would've been dead five times already. He could see the anger rising in his professor, and he was starting to get the idea that maybe it wasn't exactly intelligent to get fresh with an ex-Death Eater. Ron almost closed his eyes, waiting to be hit with something like Avada Kedavra. Instead, he watched as the professor strode back toward his seat.

            "How dare you talk back to me with such a lack of respect. I swear…" he started, but then stopped. "Get out of my sight."

            "Where do you want me to go?"

            "Dumbledore, now. Go!" Snape roared. 

            Ron threw his supplies back into his bag, crossly. That was a waste of time, he told himself. To state the truth, he didn't really care about being sent to Dumbledore. To him, the Headmaster was a big softy. As respectable and powerful as the man was, to Ron, he was but a lighthearted child underneath. If Snape thought Dumbledore would expel him, he was in for some surprise. If there was ever a time Ron could've been expelled from Hogwarts, it would've been in his second year, when Harry and he drove his father's illegally enchanted, flying car to school because they couldn't make it onto the train. Not only that, but they had crashed into the old Whomping Willow, and had also been seen by Muggles. But no, both Dumbledore and McGonagall had let them off the hook, giving the two only detentions. Ron grinned as he remembered the looks on his Housemates' faces when they found out that the story was true.

            Ron snapped back to reality as he realized he was supposed to be leaving the dungeons. He gave Snape a glare that matched his, as he casually and calmly walked out the door. Ron hadn't even bothered to notice the students of the class, Slytherin and Gryffindor, were staring at him, eyes wide, mouths hanging open in amazement that the red head even dared to tousle Snape. Traveling through the corridors he had only just been racing through, he laughed at the absurdness of the situation he was in. He gave lip to Snape and was forced to see a man with the personality of a butterfly, without even being given further punishment. It was quite a morning he was having.

            The corridors leading to Dumbledore's Headquarters were tricky to find. His office had been changed in location the year before to waylay any intruders or unwelcome guests. _Paranoid that man is getting,_ Ron felt. The only way students were to get to the Headmaster, was by being accompanied by a professor. The more Ron thought about the changes the school has been going through the more the back of his mind laughed. He remembered how last year, Dumbledore had taken three months to trust the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It was only after then had he showed her the chamber. And yet, at the end of the year, she'd found a brilliant way to lose the reliance they had. This, Ron had not wanted to think about. 

            Finding his way easily, Ron leisurely walked to Dumbledore's office. Of course he would know where the place was. The number of times he'd been there during the previous year with Harry were almost uncountable. This visit with Dumbledore would be quite different though, he realized. As Ron thought about their barges in on the headmaster's meetings or tea breaks, it hit him that all the visits had been about Harry or he had been with someone else. Perhaps this visit would also lead to the topic of Harry. _Argh, everything is about him isn't it?_ bitterly, he thought. 

            Turning corners, climbing stairways, going through doors hidden behind drapery, and then following more corridors, at last he reached his destination. It was at the very end of a long hidden chamber. If anyone had stumbled upon this place, not knowing what it lead to, they'd certainly turn back from the sheer threatening décor of the chamber. _Truly brilliant, but definitely paranoid,_ Ron grinned, _good old Dumbledore_. Reaching the stone gargoyle, Ron stopped to take a long breath. If one hadn't noticed, the redhead had been walking for quite some time over the course of the morning without a proper break or proper meal. Still panting, he took his time to ponder the password. It would be something with candy, obviously. The way Dumbledore would give himself away at times was so amusing to Ron.

            "Sugar Quills? No? How about… Cockroach Clusters? Hm…" Ron thought for another second_. Candy, you love candy Ron, come on, get with it._ "Chocolate Frogs? Oh, I know, Canary Creams!"

            Nothing worked. Ron just stood there. Perhaps he had finally come to his senses and used valid passwords that would definitely keep a person guessing. _Damn Snape for not telling me. _This was probably the punishment that he had meant to give Ron, keep him standing there, vulnerable for more loss of points for keeping Dumbledore waiting. It then reminded Ron that he was not supposed to care. _What am I so anxious about anyways?_

After standing there for a few minutes, the gargoyle moved. _Hah,_ Ron thought, _perhaps it's tired of sensing me standing here._ But he soon realized it was because someone was exiting. It didn't surprise when Professor Lupin stepped out. This year, Remus Lupin was back with several heavy precautions regarding his lycanthrope. Some students still feared the man with his being a werewolf as they all found out back in Ron's third year, but the older students knew he was harmless. But it was he, like Dumbledore and Sirius, who valued Harry's safety more than anything and it annoyed Ron. As he waited for Lupin to get out of the way, the man spotted him. _Oh great._

"Ron. Shouldn't you be in class?" the man asked with a curious look etched on his face.

"Yes, well, Snape blew up on me and sent me here."

"Oh. And he didn't give you the password. I see. Well, it's Sherbet Lemon."

"Thanks."

Professor Lupin looked at the teenage boy standing in front of him who suddenly looked down at his shoes. He frowned as though Ron had just used explicit language with him, but it was because of Ron's action that he began to worry.

"Are you feeling okay, young man?"

Ron wouldn't look up at his amiable professor who had sometimes tried to treat students like he was their father. It sometimes bothered Ron that the man would act this way. It was mostly for Harry that he acted fatherly, and he only shared the compassion for the other students to show he cared for everyone else to. Kind of phony was what Ron thought of it.

"No, Professor… I mean, yes, sir, I'm fine."

Professor Lupin gave him a disbelieving gaze that Ron noticed.

"Really, sir, I'm peachy!" Ron almost yelled. He just wanted the man to leave him alone. He would deal with the same thing in the company of Dumbledore. Lupin sighed, and giving up he turned to go.

"Well, if so, then good luck with the Headmaster. Although, I can't understand why you'd be so spiffing if you just had a quarrel with Severus," the professor seemed to ponder a bit. "Anyway, have a nice day, Ron."

The man left. Leaving Ron to finally to deal with Dumbledore in peace. As Ron turned back to face the gargoyle, he stretched to remember the password that Lupin just told him. He had a very bad short-term memory, and it was due to this it took him a while to think of the password. It finally came back to him.

"Sherbet Lem―" he stopped. 

For a second Ron had thought someone was talking to him. He swiveled backwards to see if Lupin was calling to him or something. No one was there; the corridor was empty. _But he just left a second ago._ Ron suddenly felt a drop in temperature in the chamber. Oh no. Something inside of him felt the need to grab hold of another object. Ron sensed he was going through another spasm of terror as he did early in the morning in bed. Palms and forehead sweating, he latched onto the gargoyle. The voices were coming back.

_"How could he possibly do such a thing?"_ said the voice, and it wasn't Harry or Hermione. Same distant and almost inaudible obscurity, but the voice was of an adult.

_"He was suffering,"_ another older man's voice seemed to answer. It was Dumbledore. _"You saw it in him too, did you not?"_

_"He said he was fine."_

_"He was in denial,"_ said a different from the two. 

Then it hit Ron. It was Professor Lupin, Dumbledore and Snape. Their voices, even Snape's sounded a bit sad. Ron nearly gasped at the feeling of sudden guilt.

_"But why would he go this far? Didn't he know how much he meant to Harry and especially Hermione?"_ Lupin inquired.

_"I do not know. He must have been in pain more than any of us thought,"_ answered the old man.

_"He had such promise."_

_"He was a fool to do this,"_ Snape seemed to say viciously. _"He was a fool… torn… by… jealousy… and…"_

What else he was torn by, he didn't know. The voices faded away. Still clutching the gargoyle with moist hands, his eyes were wide and bulging. He was practically slumped onto the floor, and his body refused to move. So Ron just sat there trying to take in everything he had just heard. After a minute, a steady flow of blood began rushing through his veins. Finally, he was able to breathe again, but raggedly, he panted. Guilt also streamed through him. And all he wanted to do was run back to his dormitory or the astronomy tower or anywhere. He just wanted to be away from these people. 

Ron finally regained the strength to move his body. Unsteadily, he pulled himself up from the stone gargoyle, and decided that he would not see Dumbledore. He couldn't see this man. Not then. He turned to go, with his head hanging in shame. But then the worst possible thing at that moment had occurred. The gargoyle seemed to be moving out of the way again. And Ron knew exactly whom it would be walking out.

"Mr. Weasley, I have been waiting for your arrival."

 And there he was, Dumbledore, in the flesh. All Ron could do was turn around to face him, nod his head, and follow, miserably, up the moving stairs to the headmaster's office. _Damn my life._


	5. Terrified

The moving staircase spiraled up the hidden tower to what was situated above― Dumbledore's office. Ron hadn't any choice; he followed the Headmaster. Stepping onto the tread ―_Or is it a rung?_ he questioned himself— that was in motion, they ascended. Ron still hung his head, thoroughly ashamed that he would have to confront Dumbledore with his petty problems. He stared at the hems of Dumbledore's long robes. Perhaps he could say as little as possible, and act as though there's not much of a problem. Dumbledore would suspect something else and Ron could go along with it. This would leave Ron to do away with himself in peace. _Lie, that's what I can do… Simple white lies,_ he grinned inwardly.  

            After a myriad of steps later, the duo met a platform where the office was located. Ron watched as Dumbledore took out a ring of keys from a pocket and fumbled trying to find the proper one. He let his eyes linger on the keys. There were so many on the ring. Possibly there's one for each chamber and room in the castle, he thought. A frown met his face as he realized that not even a large room would have enough space to fit all the keys if each room one. The keys were glistening, in all different shapes and sizes. Some seemed older than others, and some looked ancient. The sight of then brought back memories of happier days. Or at least days when he was of use.

            Harry, Hermione and he were on the trail of Snape, who they thought was after the Sorcerer's Stone. This stone could be used to create the Elixir of Life, and could change anything to gold. And the trio had thought Snape was planning to help the Dark Lord rise to power with use of it. _Pity we were such fools,_ Ron sighed. He remembered the Chamber of Keys. They had to find the right key in order to get a step closer to the Stone and Snape. It was he, Ron, who suggested the key type. Yes, he had helped with that. And onward they went. But what he remembered best was McGonagall's transfigured chess set. That was his moment to shine, as he led them to victory. He remembered how he had sacrificed himself, and how Hermione had begged him not to._ I wasn't afraid of the pain. I just wanted to help in stopping Snape and You-Know-Who._

And in the end, they had succeeded. Well, Harry had succeeded, almost killing himself in the process. It had been Quirrell who wanted the Stone and not Snape, after all. But he remembered how Harry told them about the fight and how Quirrell had been burning from the touch of his skin. It had amazed Ron at the moment. The guy was bloody courageous he had to admit. But somehow, over the years, the courage and confidence had mutated into arrogance. As much as Ron hated to see him like that, Harry was his friend. Or at least he thought. Once Hermione reentered his mind, a surge of hatred flooded his mind, temporarily blinding him. He could feel hot tears forming in his eyes and he hadn't bothered to wipe them. 

It was only until a tap on the shoulder had pulled Ron back to reality that he noticed the door was open and Dumbledore was waiting for him to enter the room. Hastily, he wiped the moisture from his eyes, and entered the circular room filled with the same interesting gadgets as always. Looking up and around the room, he noticed that the pictures of the previous Headmasters of Hogwarts stared at him, appearing as though they'd laugh at the boy any second for his sudden outburst of emotion. _Bugger off,_ he tried to tell the pictures telepathically. His eyes soon rested upon Dumbledore, who clearly was ready to begin their discussion, as he motioned for Ron to have a seat. With no hesitation or looking back at the disdainful portraits, he ventured over and sat down.

After a moment of silence for Dumbledore to look over Ron, who had not wanted to be gazed at and was looking out the tower window, the old man finally decided to speak with a grimace.

"Mr. Weasley, I fear deeply that there is something troubling you."

_Way to state the obvious, you're loosing your touch, old man_, was what Ron wanted to say. Instead he looked at his Headmaster for a second then looked down at his hands resting in his lap. 

"I don't understand why you'd think that, sir."

Still under Dumbledore's penetrating stare, he noticed a change of expression, a deeper frown. 

"Ron, I've noticed your change in habits. I've read the signs on your face. I've seen the expression in your eyes, or lack of. I do believe there is a difference between the Ronald Weasley I had known as a young boy and the one that I now know as the young man seated in front of me. And I know that it is something that doesn't involve the Dark Lord. Please, if there was not anything troubling you, then I wouldn't be so concerned, but seeing as there must be, I am here to help you."

_He doesn't know what he's talking about._ Ron looked up directly at the old man's face.

"Really, professor, I am fine. Whatever changes you've seen in me were probably the result of puberty." _Whoa, where did that come from?_

For a moment, Dumbledore's expression lightened as he seemed to chuckle. _Yes, man, I still have a sense of humor, if that's what your wondering._ The next second, the headmaster's concerned appearance had returned.

"This is really not a matter to joke with, Mr. Weasley. I may not know exactly what the issues you grapple with are, but I do know what you are up to."

Ron almost let his face settle with an air of dread. Again and again he convinced himself mentally that he did not know anything.

"Most certainly you don't, sir, with all due respect. But there are no issues, and no problems. If it is that my appearance and behavior is quite irregular, well, it's due to sleep, or lack there of."

"Then may I ask simply, why you have been so late to class?"

"I overslept," was the first thing that slipped out of his mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

"Quite curious. I do believe I saw you at breakfast. You haven't been using Hermione's Time Turner, have you?"

"But she doesn't… Oh. Um. I just forgot…" Ron started to panic now, and this time it was quite clearly written on his face. Hermione hasn't had her Time Turner since the third year, and Dumbledore could tell he was lying to him. "Professor, it's great that you worry about me and care, I mean it's quite a great facet to your personality to care about your students as you are the Headmaster… But I promise I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me, I'm not up to anything. I just need some sleep. Really that's all the problem is, if there ever was one," Ron ended his rambling as he got up to leave. 

Dumbledore must have sensed Ron's eagerness to go, as the man also rose from his throne-like chair. There was a frown on his face as he went over to the door and stood by it. With his wide sleeves and long arms draping the only exit the old man guarded it. Ron just stopped where he was and had his face transfixed on him. What was the man doing? Holding Ron hostage? Dumbledore knew Ron was confused; after all, he seemed to know everything else about Ron. _Well, there is always that window over there…_

"Mr. Weasley, I cannot let you leave this room until we have _this_ sorted out," he almost shouted as he held out a piece of parchment with writing on it. As Ron focused on it, he noticed that it was a letter. Then he noticed the untidy scrawl written on it. 

"_My _letter!" Ron yelled. _If he read it!_ Anger was rising in the hot-tempered redhead. "Please tell me you haven't read it?" he yelled, forgetting all about respect. What nerve of the man to read someone's private writings! 

"Mr. Weasley, do remember that I am faculty at this school. But yes, I have read it. I do understand that it was private, but what is written on this sheet holds enough information to concern me of your health and safety, as well as others who would most certainly be hit hardest by such acts that are hinted on this parchment!"

Ron would've fell to the floor if his chair weren't directly under him. His eyes were wide, mouth open in astonishment of what the headmaster had just said._ How dare he try to nose into my personal life and decisions! _What did he know about people who would be hit by his actions? Thinking quick, he tried to come up with some kind of reasoning behind a suicide note that didn't involve suicide. Suddenly, it was as though lights were flickering on in his mind, and the darkness was flourishing for the moment.

"Professor Dumbledore, see… I'm kind of ashamed to say this, but I've always been a little jealous of Harry," he began. _Heh, understatement of the year, that had been. _He hung his head to show the humiliation. "He's always been so heroic, and risked his life just to save our saves."—Which was very much true, Ron reminded himself—"And well, I was just thinking that if I ever had to risk my life, I'd want my family to know that'd be alright. So I just thought, since You-Know-Who is still rising and everything, and Harry needed to save the world, like last year, I'd want to be there to help him out and all. I figured it'd be best if I just had it written before hand to send out, if I ever needed to in case of a life-threatening situation. It's not as bad as it seems!" he almost pleaded the end. He lifted his head back up to see if Dumbledore was buying it. The man was finally retreating to his desk. The man had probably thought that Ron would not leave anymore.

As he sat down across from Ron, the Headmaster stared at him, bright blue eyes peering out through his half-moon spectacles. No, it was a glare. It was as though he disapproved of Ron's explanation and possibly thought he was lying to him again. Well, Ron was lying, though he couldn't help but admit to his conscience that he was indeed a bit jealous of Harry. He had fame, the Invisibility Cloak, endless piles of money, a place on the Quidditch team since the first year, the Firebolt, the Triwizard Tournament, a definite future in fighting Dark Arts, and now, Hermione. _What about Ginny? Forgot about her did you?_ his mind growled. Yes, he felt silly for envying his best friend, and letting a hatred burn in his heart as well, but all is fair in love and war is it not? 

Ron heard Dumbledore sigh, as he rubbed his temple. "Is this true?"

For a moment, he battled the side of him demanding him to tell the old guy the truth. But that would give away his plans to end all his misery. No, he would do whatever it took to follow through, even if it meant getting tangled in a web of lies. It was Ron's turn to sigh.

"Yes, sir."

"Have you told Harry how you've felt?"

That almost killed him. Of course he hadn't. They were starting to get to the topic of Harry, just as he had suspected.

"No. I don't want him to think that because I'm willing to help him through this period of Darkness he has to also look after me in the process."

"Excuse me, I mean, have you told the boy that you feel it's necessary for you to almost predict your death in order to help him?"

"I'm not predicting my death, sir, I'm merely informing my family that I put my life at risk and that if it happens that I die, they'd understand. That's all, Professor."

Ron watched as Dumbledore again arose from his throne-like chair. With his robes dragging along the ground, he seemed to be walking towards a cabinet in the corner of the room. Growing in suspicion, Ron watched as the older man brought out a large stone basin. With numerous runes carved into the sides, the bowl looked quite interesting. _Something Hermione might like to see, no doubt. _Dumbledore carried the large object back to the desk. After placing it ever so gently onto the desk, careful not to spill the contents, he sat down again. 

At this time, Ron took the time to look into the basin. The contents were like liquid silver, and seemed to match with his Headmaster's long white hair and beard. It was then that Ron realized what it was. It was the Pensieve that Harry had described to him during their fourth year. As he looked into the bowl, he noticed that his face was not reflected in the substance, instead it showed some interesting images of people who looked familiar to him, but he couldn't recognize. 

"Yes, my Pensieve," was all he said. He took his wand out, and placed the tip just at the edge of his hair. Lifting, Ron saw what looked like hair still on the tip. _No, no, Ron, remember what Harry had said? It's his thought. _Suddenly, he was confused. What would Dumbledore need to remember this moment for? Ron looked expectantly at the man in front of him.

"Why may I―" he started, but was interrupted.

"I have a lot on my mind. I just had a meeting with Professor Lupin, and now I have added more. As I fear I may forget to touch upon this subject on future dates, I feel the need to save this memory," he stated matter-of-factly, as he dropped the thought strand into the Pensieve. 

Ron peered into it, trying to see it change as Harry had described it doing to in detail before. The pool of thoughts began to swirl around, giving off a little reflected light, giving the impression of illumination. Once it finally settled, he looked in to see that he was gazing at the top of his head and Dumbledore's. And eagle-eye view, the Muggles would call it, of the room from the ceiling. With this sight, he nodded at his memory. Harry was right. He looked back into the basin one last time, but saw nothing. _Cool_, he thought. Dumbledore then picked it up, and placed it back into his cabinet, locking it magically with a charm. 

"Well, Mr. Weasley. Seeing as this was only our first discussion, and in which we haven't been able to speak of much, let it be known that I will call upon you on later dates. I will be keeping an eye on you, as well as Harry," he said as he receded to his chair. "Also, do remember to hold that tongue of yours. Especially in the presence of Snape. It would do no good to see Gryffindor lose the House Cup. But I don't play favorites in this school…" 

_Very funny. What about golden boy Potter? Wow, did I almost think like Malfoy. I'm stooping to new lows, I am. Next thing you'll know, I'll be the Dark Lord's leading servant.  _The thoughts ricocheted off the corners of his mind. _Maybe I should get one of those Pensieve things._

"Yes, sir."

Ron lifted himself out of the chair he was seated in. With a glance of the old grandfather clock in the corner, he was aware that Potions was over and it was time for Herbology in the green houses. 

"Um, professor?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Should I tell Professor Sprout that I've been excused by you?"

"Oh, yes, yes, that'd be fine."

"Alright. Bye now.

"Do try to have a good day, Ron."

"Yes, sir."

And with a last look at the room he had been alone in for the first time, and a wave to Fawkes, he exited the chamber. Making his way down the moving staircase, he grimaced. _Maybe it's not such a good idea to kill myself… _he contemplated,_ no, no, I made it this far, and I'm not afraid of death, and remember that this is going to help everyone. Dumbledore doesn't know everything, and if he thinks he's going to see me later, he's kidding himself. _

Reaching the bottom, his plan still fresh in his mind, Ron continued his arduous trek to the main corridors of the castle. Out of breath, and hungry, he reached the Entrance Hall, and stopped. Trying to get some air, he paused and, oddly, started gasping as though he had just ran five miles at top speed with no break. His head began to throb like hammers banging with force on a stubborn nail. His gasping was getting worse, and soon he couldn't breathe all together. Being a panicking git, he tried walking further to find someone who could help him. And with one step, he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.   

**_A/N:_ Sorry if this chapter isn't as exciting or good as the previous… I've been having writers block or something, and this is the best I could do. I've been quite busy as well, sorry, which would add to the lack of quality. And thanks to all the reviewers! It was so great seeing that you like this! Heh, thanks! **

**And a special thank you so kindly to To Who It May Concearn for writing a beautiful poem, which you can find here (It's really worth your time): http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1109896 **


	6. Treated

They had passed the Hogwarts gates a long time ago. Hogsmeade too had long been seen. The hills that had been Sirius Black's safe haven a few back were now a thing of the past. And they continued their journey on the dirt clad, cobblestone path. Prancing hand in hand, Harry and Hermione were oblivious to the fact that Ron was behind them. On and on they went for what seemed like an hour. And for hours Ron watched the smiling, laughing expressions on their faces. 

_            Suddenly, something went wrong. The ground began to rattle slightly. As fast as it came, it stopped. But not even a moment later, it began to shake again, except with more might. It too stopped a few seconds later. The couple before Ron stopped, looking at each other curiously, wondering what was going on. With a shrug from Harry, he took a step. Much to their dismay, the ground again shook. _

_This tremor was so strong, that the road underneath Harry's foot broke apart. With quick reflexes, he pulled back to unharmed ground. What happened next was slightly blurry to Ron, but he knew. The earth beneath Harry gave a vicious push, sending him flying. It was in slow motion, that he watched as Hermione yell, "No!" and Harry's body was thrown into the deep crevice the violent quaking caused. Ron then watched the panicking girl as she threw herself to the edge of the road to the crack, and he too panicked. He had just watched his best friend disappear, and he was not about to let his love end as well._

_ As Hermione neared the edge, Ron ran to her, despite the ground's quivering. On instinct, he tried to grab her hand, but it was no good. He  tried to get a hold of her around her waist but he again failed. It was as though he couldn't touch her. His hands just went through her. Finally, her foot slipped off the edge of the crevice, and loosing her balance, she too seemed to be sucked into the pool of darkness._

_The shaking earth calmed, and Ron sat by the edge, head in hands, crying. He could even hear her voice still screaming out his name, echoing._

_"Ron… Ron…Ron…"_

"Ron!"

With a jolt, his eyes snapped open. Only several inches above him was what he thought was the face of an angel. _Am I already dead? _Letting his eyes get into focus, he realized it was Hermione. 

"Hermione?" he questioned, his voice raspy and hoarse. 

"Ron!" she exclaimed, as she scooped his frail body into her arms, giving him a tight squeeze of a hug. "Oh Ron, I thought we lost you! (Thanks, he thought.) I checked your pulse and it was barely there! Oh, thank goodness your awake!"

All he managed to say was, "Uh huh." 

Ron looked up to see the rest of the Gryffindors of his class gazing at him like vultures on the dead body of rat. Hermione was still holding him. He couldn't but admit to himself that he liked it. But all too soon she let go of him. Taking a look him, Hermione took the opportunity to say something.  
            "Look at you, Ron, you're skin and bones. What's happening to you?"

Ron looked at her, and with a surge of guilt, he looked away. Why should he say anything? Especially with him Housemates goggling at him. 

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You can't be fine. We came in here after Herbology to find you lying unconscious on the floor! You're so pale, you're as white as a unicorn!" she grimaced, "Ron, we've been watching you. Harry and I have both noticed you change. We worry. It's as though you don't want to be with us anymore… or anyone for that matter. Please tell me what's going on."

_Sure as hell you worry. Worst bucket of lies I've ever heard. _Ron couldn't stand seeing them try to act like they cared. Only when he was in a noticeable position did they try. Like just then was an example. In pain and visible was when they tried. Pathetic really. He felt rage flooding his system. _I won't let them see me like this._ Ron tried to push himself up to go. His arms collapsed on him, and he fell onto his back, painfully. With a sharp gasp of breath, he tried again.

"Ron! What are you doing?"

"I'm fine, I have to go."

"No, you're hurt and you may have broken something. I told Harry to go get Madam Pomfrey. They should be here soon"

That outraged him. Who were they to think that he needed help? He was fine as he was. And there was no use in helping him out, as his life was to end that very night. It would only be a waste of Pomfrey's time. She probably had other sick kids to tend to.

"Listen, Hermione. I'm perfectly fine, and I'll know when I need aid. Right now, all I need is some water and some time to be left alone," he said, emphasizing the last part to show he wanted some privacy to his Housemates. They seemed to understand as they all seemed to scatter into the Great Hall, as it was time for their lunch break.

"No! Harry said it would be best if Pomfrey looked at you."

"Why? What, with me out of the way you and Harry could have a quick snog before classes start again?" 

She looked scandalized by that comment. He continued.

"Besides, I don't need nor want Harry's help, and I don't care what he thinks would be best."

"Ron!"

"I don't care, Hermione. I don't care anymore, so just bugger off."

"Harry is your best friend, and I thought I was too," she started with her eyes slightly squinting, and her voice at a low volume, but high intensity. "I think I know what this is about—"

"No. You don't know what it's about. Like I said, bugger off."

And with that, he used all his might to push himself off the floor. Steadying himself as he stood at full height, he grabbed his bag. "You may be a resident genius, but you're quite oblivious to anything that doesn't lay written in books. If you need me, I'll be… Hell, I don't know."

He slowly turned to go. He could feel himself getting out of breath as he took only a few steps. His books seemed to be weighing more then they seemed to before. Ignoring the warnings his body was sending him, his mind focused on heading to his dormitory, finding the Marauder's Map, and sneaking out to Hosgmeade where he would definitely be alone. 

"Ron! You can't just run like this… Or well, walk struggling... Madam Pomfrey is coming for you, and don't worry, we'll stand by you for the whole time!"

He turned to look at Hermione. The look of desperation was painted on her face. "I don't need your help. I'm turning seventeen soon, and after next year I'm off on my own. I can take care of myself." He was lying to her. He almost laughed at himself thinking, _I'll never last long enough to see the day._

"Please listen to me, Ron."

"No."

Again, he turned to go. This time, he tried to walk faster and ignore the fast that his body was disagreeing with him and his actions. Reaching the end of the corridor however, it seemed as though it had had enough. Ron could feel his body give up on him and his will. The last thing he remembered was the coldness in the air as he collapsed on the ground. And again, he fell into unconsciousness.

_The earthquake had finally stopped. Ron found himself starring into the deep opening in ground. There were no more echoes coming from his friends who had fallen in. They were most likely dead. A sudden feeling on loneliness hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured on him. He had lost his friends and now they were going to a happier place together, leaving him behind. As usual, he sighed._

_The wind was blowing cold air through the area. The ground beneath Ron was chilly as well. Howling could be heard from the wolves of the nearby forests. The whole scenario was frightening. But nothing was as frightening as the broken ground before him. The large crack silently roared at him, screaming obscenities. It was asking Ron why he did what he did. And Ron just sat confused. _

_A few minutes later, he heard footsteps coming up behind him. The clicking of hard rubber against cobblestone was unbearable. Ron refused to allow his curiosity to get the best of him. If it was a person he that was coming down this path, so be it. As long as he didn't bother Ron, that is. But he had thought too soon._

_"Ron?"_

_The voice was deep, but it seemed devoid of emotion. _

_"Ron?" it repeated. _

_Still refusing to move, he sat transfixed on the crevice, but answered, "What do you want?"_

_"I've a message for you."_

_"What is it?"_

_"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger have entered our realm."_

_"What? What realm do you speak of?" he asked, picking himself up off the ground to see who this strange messenger was. Taking a last look at the dark fathomless depths of the fissure, he stepped back, and turned around. _

_There, standing before Ron was the dead Cedric Diggory in color and in the life._

_            "Aren't you supposed to be dead!"_

_            "Yes, and I am. Not pulling a Peter Pettigrew here," he seemed to chuckle. "Don't tell me you forgot you're dead, I—" _

_            "I'm dead?"_

_            Ron felt his knees lose their will to stand up, and he was scrawled on the floor. Cedric must have been surprised that he'd fainted from the old news, for Ron could hear him call his name._

_            "Ron! Ron you must get up! Ron…"_

"Ron," someone called. "You have to get up, man!"

            He opened his eyes. _Déjà vu. _Ron was lying in a bed, fixed up with white linens. The air had a certain smell that one would not be able to put a finger on, but the smell alone could answer all of one's questions. Taking a whiff of the air, it occurred to him that he was in the hospital wing. _Great, someone magicked me here, _he lazily thought.

            "Ron? You awake yet?" It was Harry, someone whom Ron did not want to see. 

            "Yeah."

            "How are you feeling?" asked Hermione, who was standing next to Harry looking down at Ron.

            "Fine. I told not to bring me here, I didn't need it," he replied hoarsely.

            "Excuse me?" Hermione almost threatened, "Who knows what would've happened if I went with my first option of just leaving you in the corridor after you fainted. You could've died just lying there."

            "You should've went with it," Ron mumbled looking directly at the bushy haired girl. 

            "What?" Hermione looked almost confused. Had he said what she had thought? 

            "I said, you should've went with it," Ron repeated with more of a voice. He turned away from her to see what kind of treatment Madam Pomfrey would be giving him. Perhaps he shouldn't have said that. It would make them even more suspicious than they already claim to be. 

            "Ron… What's wrong?" Harry seemed to speak.

            Still staring at his side table, more specifically the details of the wooden legs, he answered with a small sigh, "Nothing."

            "I really don't—"

            "Potter. I think you and Hermione should leave," Madam Pomfrey broke in, saving Ron from another interrogation that would've been the same as the previous ones he went through. "I will take it from here now that he's awaken and I can begin to heal him."

            "But we promised to stay with him till he was out!" Hermione interjected.

            Ron laughed. "What were you thinking when you made that promise? Forgot who you were dealing with did you?"

            Pomfrey stiffened. "I don't want to hear a word from you, Weasley. You're in a terrible condition, and until you're in proper health, no visitors. I can tell you haven't been eating properly, and haven't had proper rest. Those bags under your eyes wouldn't even fool a flatworm. I suggest you take better care of yourself once you're out of here."

            Ron squirmed in the bed. Truth it was that Ron hadn't been eating properly. For several months Ron had been skipping meals, neglecting his body's needs. Perhaps now the dangers had caught up with him. Also, it was true that Ron hadn't been getting proper rest either. It never mattered to Ron that he was slowly killing himself without noticing or trying. He had been too preoccupied by his misery and depression. And even though people had noticed his changes in activity, they hadn't bothered to say anything till it was getting too late. And now, he was bedridden, delaying his plans to make the ultimate sacrifice. 

            "What do you mean once I'm out?" he asked, very suddenly.

            "In your condition, do you really think you're going to be about in a matter of minutes?" the medi-witch asked scornfully. 

             "Ron, please, let Madam Pomfrey take care of you," Hermione pleaded from behind the nurse. 

Pomfrey had forgotten they were still around and hadn't left yet. As she turned to see them out, Ron could tell she was fuming inside. _Such lack of respect!_ Ron mocked in his mind, as he watched his friends fuss and fret with the old woman. It was quite a match to watch. They weren't yelling, but it was a good show, he thought. At last, his two friends gave up, and Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and walked towards the entrance of the wards. Looking back they mouthed a quick, "Feel better!" and left. The nurse was now walking back to Ron's bed, and seemed to mumble some thing about a lack of respect.

After checking Ron's pulse, feeling his forehead, and the state of his bones and muscles, she walked to her medicine cabinet. Pulling out a large bottle of what looked like it contained Poly-Juice Potion, she returned to his bedside. 

"You're to drink all of this, and then sleep. When you awake, I'll be giving you some more concoctions. Mind you, this potion and the others are not going to be the most satisfying to your taste, but seeing as you don't like regular foods, this will have to do," she told him. Why was it that she seemed to be upset with him? If she didn't want to treat him, then she didn't have to.

"Listen, you don't need to give me anything. I appreciate all you're doing, but I do not need to be here. I think we both know this," Ron replied.

"Hold your tongue, boy. The less you speak, the faster you'll drink, the sooner you'll sleep, and I'll be able to treat the other patients of this school. If you haven't noticed there seems to something going around causing people to vomit worms," she responded to his impudence.

Boy, did that bring back memories. In his second year, Ron had tried to defend Hermione from Malfoy, trying to hex him, but his wand backfired on him. He was forced to chuck slugs for hours. All for Hermione, he embarrassed himself in front of both the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams, and Hermione herself, and what did she ever do in return? She gave her love to Harry, and brought Ron to a nurse that seemed to hate him.

Shaking his head, throwing his broken heart aside, he reached for the goblet in which Pomfrey poured the potion on the bedside table. Smelling the liquid inside, he gagged. This would be a long afternoon. Downing the contents in one gulp, he slammed the empty goblet back onto the table. Nasty it was, tasting like a mix of moldy bananas and spoiled milk. As the potion settled in his empty stomach, Ron started to feel chills running up and down his spine. A frosty coldness started to settle around his abdominal areas and spread to engulf his body in an icy feeling. He started to feel sleep coming upon him.

As Ron's body began to surrender to the pull of slumber, he allowed himself to subside onto the bed he was sitting on. Pulling the covers over him to try to warm his frozen insides, he stared at the high ceiling above him. The curtains around him were drawn and he was out of sight to the rest of the world. 

"Just the way it should be," he told himself.

And as Ron retired to sleep there in the wards of the hospital wing, he couldn't help but think in sadness. _Pity I'll have to delay my death even further,_ he mused with a sigh. Not a minute later, Ron was sound asleep.

Note: I'm so sorry to have delayed this chapter for so long. I've been extremely busy with last minute schoolwork, Christmas shopping and chores that I couldn't find a nice block of time to sit down and type. Although, I spent a lot of time thinking about my plot, so hopefully this chapter made up for the last chapter. Thanks to all my reviewers! Oh, here's a little something I'd like to share… My dad bought me an early Christmas present, and guess what it is… It's a quill and ink set with a black feather quill, blue and silver ink and extra nibs! Sorry… I had to share my excitement with someone. I'll write more soon! 


	7. Taunted

Several hours passed before Ron Weasley awoke from his much needed sleep. It was darkening outside of the castle, signaling nightfall. Hints of reds and oranges were painted on the gloomy sky, which to Ron seemed to foretell his future. Inside, his body had finally warmed up from the frozen slump it had been in before dozing. The castle itself was quite warm, as it would always be during chilly autumn nights that suggested the coming of the winter season. 

            But Ron's stirring was not quite as calm and easy as awakening would usually be. He had not woken up tired and in demand for more napping. Instead, he was alert and vigilant, as though something had just happened that would harm him. Abruptly, the young man sat up from his bed, tossing sheets off onto the stone floor, flinging his legs off the side as he tried to comprehend where he was and why. One would think he was having a convulsion of some sort. But no, it was only a misapprehension on his weak and deteriorating mind.

            The surrounding linen curtains were suffocating him. The white sheets were unfamiliar. He jumped off the edge of the bed, and tried to run away. The area was most likely charmed, because as Ron tried to run though them, all he did was crash into something that felt like solid rock. The impact left him on his hindmost quarters on the cold floor. He pushed himself backwards toward the bed, feeling claustrophobic. The alienation Ron was fully aware of made him yell at the top of his lungs. 

            Outside his ward, the other students heard Ron yelling. The younger ones panicked, thinking imprudently that it was Voldemort who was torturing sick patients on the other side of the chambers. More cunning students went to find Madam Pomfrey who was not there at the moment. She had been about the castle gathering ingredients for her myriad of liquid remedies. When someone had caught up to her and informed her of the screaming patient back in the wards, she practically dropped all of her materials and ran toward the wing she was needed back in. Something had gone awry. 

              Back in the wing, Pomfrey rushed to her cabinets, pulling out bottles and flasks of all sorts. Rapidly but thoroughly, she poured some of the bottle's contents into a bigger bottle. Giving it a shake to insure the liquid was properly mixed, she ran to Ron's closed off bed.

            Ron had stopped his yelling for a while, and no one came to him yet. Almost shivering in fear, he crawled towards the far side of his block, trying to hide behind his side table. His knees were pressed against his chest, and his arms were tightly wrapped around them. Letting his head fall back and hit the table against which he leaned, he let out a sob. 

            "Why am I here?!" he yelled out, "Please, someone—"

            Before he could finish his cries, a woman burst through the shielded curtains. 

            "Weasley, my dear, where are you?" she asked as she noticed he was not upon his bed. 

She slowly made her way around the furniture and found him sitting on the floor, with moisture from tears shining on his pale face. _Finally_, Ron thought, someone arrived. He watched as she bent down to his level. She was looking right into his eyes, like she was examining him. 

"Who are you?" he asked innocently, with an awkward breaking in mid sentence.

"Who am I? Oh dear, this is worse then I thought," the woman seemed to say to herself. "I'm a nurse, and I believe it would be best if you get back into your bed and drink this."

Ron looked up at the bottle she was holding. It had a blue colored liquid in it that seemed to swirl even when she didn't move the bottle, like the concoction was alive. Looking back at her, he was unsure of himself. Could he trust her? Was this woman really a nurse who was trying to help him? _Well, she is wearing a nurse's attire._ But did that mea she really was? Perhaps she was trying to play a joke on him. Maybe that liquid stuff she was holding was no remedy for his sickness, but a poison to kill him.

A sudden thought came to him. _Maybe poison wouldn't be so bad. _So bad? another side of mind questioned, she's trying to kill you, or else how else would she know you? _Possibly she's the school nurse who's been trying to save your life that's not worth saving,_ his mind argued. Preposterous; she's trying to kill you. _She's trying to save you, and you don't want her to. You want to die, Weasley, don't you remember?_ The voices in his head were giving him a headache. Shaking his head, he looked up at the woman. 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked him, quite viciously Ron thought.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Ron replied coolly. 

"Don't be a fool, if you don't listen to me, you might very well die. Now, if you would so kindly stop this stubbornness, possibly, you will live."

"So you are trying to kill me!" he said in a sudden loud voice. If he didn't take that potion, he'd die, and if he did, possibly he still would die. _Dumbledore!_ Who? _Dumbledore, you idiot! _Sorry, don't know him. If his mind could have made audible noise, it definitely would've been sighing. _Just listen to her you fool, she's going to help you, then release you from this cage, and you can do whatever you want._

"Mr. Weasley, I assure you I'm trying to help you. If you don't get onto the bed in the next three seconds, I'll have to do it myself, and then force feed you."

"Fine!" he yelled at her, with a huff. Ron gave in to the more rational side of his mind and pulled himself up from his curled position. Giving the old nurse a glare, he sat on the bed, arms folded across his chest. "Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic," she answered sarcastically, "Now, drink this."

Pomfrey poured the contents of the bottle into a metal goblet and then held it out for him to take. Taking a peek at the blue potion, he snatched it out of her hand. He didn't know if it was poison or not and if he should drink it, he still had his doubts on this woman and her intentions and motives. But it didn't matter, he had gone so far believing her, and so he would follow through. Holding the goblet to his lips, he drank. It tasted awful, but it didn't matter. The more he drank, the more the hesitant side of his mind disappeared. Finally, he finished every last drop, and handed the goblet back to her, only to find that she wasn't there anymore. _Now what?_

Ron felt that his mind was clear again. Looking around, he finally realized where he was again, and why he was there. He was in the hospital wing because he had fainted a few times. _Alright, I had my medicine, and I'm feeling fine, so I guess I could just go now, _he reasoned. He stood up from the bed and stretched for a moment. Looking out a window that hung high above his bed, he saw that night had fallen. _Damn. _Ron was supposed to have committed suicide by now. His letters were supposed to be finished, and his deeds were supposed to be done. But no, all because Harry and Hermione thought he couldn't take care of himself, Ron was stuck in the hospital wing, being given medicine that made him insane, then being threatened to die unless he drank another._ Why'd I even drink it, _he thought hopelessly.

Pushing his misery to the side of his mind temporarily, Ron decided to make a break for it. The curtains around the bed were open, and Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. There were a few younger students in pajamas were in beds sleeping. Remembering how the nurse had told him about the worm vomiting epidemic going around, he reminded himself to stay clear of them. Looking down at his clothes, he realized he too was in pajamas. Perhaps, he was expected to spend the night. This would not do for Ron. His eyes wandered around his bed, in search of his wand, school bag and clothes. He scowled as he realized Madam Pomfrey probably took them away. _Damn it. _

Still, Ron would be able to pull off his plans. He would sneak out, stealthily make his way back to the Gryffindor common room without getting caught, find some paper and quills to write quick letters, crawl up to the boy's dormitory, steal Harry's Invisibility Cloak (_If it wasn't being used_, he reminded himself.), run to the Owlery and send the letters. Then, with that entire aside, he could finish his to do list by finding a good way to end his life, and then end it. Ron still had a chance to carry out his scheme.

As Ron began walking out, he heard voices and footsteps coming in his direction. They seemed to be arguing with each other as they came nearer and nearer. A few moments later he realized whom the arguing voices belonged to. It was Dumbledore's and Pomfrey's. _Shit_, he almost voiced. Not wanting to get caught, he jumped back into his bed, threw himself under the remaining covers, and pretended to sleep. He waited as they passed his bed, but it never happened. Pomfrey closed his curtains, and they proceeded to stand just outside his bed area and talk. All the while Ron listened.

"Poppy, are you sure you gave him the right potions?"

"I am positive I gave him the right ones. The Digesti-Filler was supposed to give nutrients to him. He was starving himself, Albus. It wasn't hard to tell."

So they were talking about Ron. It seemed like Dumbledore was fuming about something even though Ron couldn't see him. He continued to listen.

"But what about the side effects? Did you not bother to see how the liquid could affect him?"

"Albus, the only side effects were temporary and mild memory loss and slightly intensified feeling."

"Intensified feelings? Poppy, do you mean to say that this remedy of yours could heighten emotions to their extreme and dangerous potentials? Did it occur to you that this could cause a child to become unstable?"

"Only temporarily, Headmaster!"

"Who knows what will happen now. Ronald Weasley was already unstable when he got here. I shudder to think in what condition he will be in when he wakes up and you let him out of here!"

"Well, what do I do then?" 

"I feel it would be best if he stayed here until I found it safe. Don't give me that look Poppy, I'm saying this for his own safety, he would never hurt anyone else. He is to stay here until I am sure he won't hurt himself."

"Yes, Albus. I'll try my best to take care of the boy, but you must understand it will not be easy. He is quite stubborn, and he will continuously tell me he shouldn't be here and beg me to let him out. How do I tell him that you want me to watch over him until he is safe from himself?"

"You tell him the truth."

"Is it wise?"

"Mr. Weasley needs to understand that his situation is much more serious than he thinks. I believe it would be for the best," Dumbledore ended rising his voice, as if he knew Ron was awake and listening. 

"Albus, please, my other patients are resting!"

"Yes, yes, well, I'll be leaving then. Good luck to you."

With the sound of retreating footsteps, Ron was sure they all had finally left. This left Ron, still awake, seething with rage. How dare they say he was unstable? Sure he wanted to hurt himself, but he still knew what he was doing. He knew it meant that his parents would suffer from the loss of a child. He knew that his friends would be in pain. But he knew that they would get over it in the end. They would need to in order to go onward in life. Ron was not unstable. He knew perfectly well what he was doing. Was it really such a bad thing if he didn't want to live anymore, so he'd do something about? 

Ron knew his future would be worthless. Pseudo-Moody practically said so in his fourth year. Hermione and Harry had the makings of Aurors, but Ron… Well, he never said anything about Ron. But that was probably because his father nearly blew the imposter's whole scheme to kill Harry. But even still, Ron knew he had nothing waiting for him in the future. He would never have a family of his own, no kids with flaming red hair of his own, no loving wife to come home to from a nonexistent career. Life was going nowhere for Ron. If that was so, what was the point in living in unhappiness when he could die and be dead in joy?

The only problem was he had no way of killing himself. Nor did he have anyway to even get out because of Dumbledore's need to cage him up. The curtains were enchanted to be stonewalls. Ron was only a caged animal, dangerous to the outside world. _What am I? A basilisk? _He sulked. He had no means to break free and do as he pleased. _Damn it, I might as well be sent to St. Mungos and live with the Longbottoms._

Ron sighed. He hated this all. First, Hermione and Harry went off together, breaking Ron's heart. After deciding to kill himself, he starts to hear voices. Then, Dumbledore finds his unfinished suicide note. And things just keep getting worse from there, delaying every single plan he had. _Why can't the universe just leave me alone?_ As he let the depression drown his heart, he stared motionlessly at the curtains. Suddenly, an idea came to him. 

Standing up, off the bed, Ron focused on the curtain. It would be surely be hard enough to knock himself out with, would it not? Perfect was what he thought. He could hurl himself at the hard wall a couple of times until his body couldn't take it anymore and it stopped functioning. _Perfect. Everyone would freak seeing a bloody and battered body lying dead on the ground._ But then again they'd not understand why he'd such a thing. Regardless, unstable or not, though, Ron would be dead and that's all that mattered. Blood racing through his body, Ron closed his eyes and ran at the curtain. 

But it never came. There was no charmed wall. It was just linen. Opening his eyes though, he saw he was outside of his box. He was not in a cage anymore. He was free. Looking back at his bed with surrounding curtains, he laughed. 

"Stupid people. You thought I was a danger to myself and I shouldn't be let out. Well look at me now. I'm out of here," Ron whispered to himself, "And now I'll finally be able to say, Ronald Weasley will be no more."

Tiptoeing to the door of the wards, Ron felt like a freed owl. He reached the door, and pulled the handle, slowly pulling it open. Making sure no one was watching, he took a last look at the hospital wing, and then stepped out. Only, it wasn't that easy, because he realized that he had stepped into someone. _Not again. Why now?_

"Shouldn't you be in bed, Mr. Weasley?"

Looking up at the speaker against his will, he saw who it was. It was Dumbledore.

Note: Hey there. I really want to thank all my reviewers, because without the support I really wouldn't have written on. Thanks so much. I'm sorry if I didn't take this chapter anywhere, but I was determined to write at least one more chapter before Christmas! I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and if you don't celebrate it, have a great holiday off from work, school, etc. Also, I hope you have a great new year as well. Stay safe. 


	8. Tortured

**_Disclaimer:_ It's time for another one of these I guess. Nothing's mine but the plot and emotion behind it… Yeah, that's about right.**

The headmaster looked slightly down at Ron. The old man's eyes bore into him as Ron gazed up to meet them. It stunned him that the two would continuously cross paths. The idea was nerve twisting to feel that one was being stalked by the school's famous headmaster. 

 "Professor…" Ron began fictitiously, "I, er… I was just looking for Madam Pomfrey… I wanted some water."

"So you decided to skip searching her office and have a stroll down to the kitchens where the House elves could also whip you up some nice sweets as well," Dumbledore stated almost sarcastically. "I do believe Poppy keeps a pitcher of fresh water by each patient's side tables for cases such as your own."

That was something Ron had forgot about. Why didn't it occur to him that he had had a drink from the very pitcher he was talking about? Lying was never Ron's strong point, or perhaps Dumbledore always knew better. _Damn,_ he thought. He was so close to making it, but no. A fresh surge of anger arose in him. _Damn, Dumbledore for playing these stupid games with me. _Why did he need to pick the exact times when Ron wanted to escape to make his return to the infirmary? 

"Perhaps it never occurred to me that that big jug-like thing with liquid inside was a water pitcher. Please forgive my unstable self for not noticing," he said back to the headmaster, bitterly. _Shit, maybe that was a little too cynical…_

Dumbledore, thankfully, let it slide. Although, he did give Ron a bit of a glare. Ron exhaled silently, and guiltily decided the floor needed examining. Sometimes, his fiery anger would get the best of him, leading him to more trouble than he bargained for. That whole day was filled with tumultuous examples. As he regained his senses, he glanced up to see Dumbledore gone. Turning his head slightly Ron saw the man beckoning him toward his bed in the corner of his eye. _Damn, I almost had it, _he sighed mentally. 

Defeated, Ron followed his headmaster back to his bed. Hanging his head in shame, it seemed that his short walk lasted forever. It was as though the Ministry of Magic found Ron guilty of being engrossed in Death Eater activity, and now he was taking his long walk into the realm of Dementors: Azkaban. For a moment he could even feel the scabby and scarred cold hands of the dark creatures carrying his pain heavy body to his cell. He could feel the happiness being sucked out of him, and replaced, was the dark anger-filled fears and sadness of his heart. _So this is how Sirius felt,_ he mused.

Shaking away his dreary fantasies, he found himself at the foot of his bed. He also noticed his headmaster there as well. Ron gazed up at him as if asking "now what?" but kept his mouth shut. Possibly the old man had read his expression, because he let out a soft sigh. Maybe it was a yawn, for he did seem tired in Ron's eyes. Ron knew the effects of tiredness on the face, but he also knew sadness. 

For a moment, he felt sorry for Dumbledore. Fighting Voldemort, keeping up with the Ministry and muggle newspapers, seeing that Hogwarts was safe, and now stalking Ron. He couldn't imagine how the man did it all. But then again, this was Dumbledore. Dumbledore, friend of famous alchemists like Flamel, fighting dark wizards like Grindelwald. Sure he was about 150 years old, but he could handle it. He wasn't known as the greatest wizard of all time for nothing.    

"Ron?" a voice asked, knocking Ron out of his seat on his train of thought. _Oh yeah, Dumbledore._

"Yes, professor?" he answered. Then he realized what the problem was. He was still standing at the foot of his bed, staring at the man. "Oh."

Sheepishly almost, Ron climbed into his bed. Pulling the covers over himself, which had to be for the third or fourth time over the course of a couple hours, he stared up at the ceiling. Letting out a long sigh, he let his gaze drop to Dumbledore who had not even bothered to move. He wasn't evening watching Ron anymore. _Good_, he thought, _because that would be kind of creepy._ Instead his focus was on the door to the wing, as if he was expecting something to happen. A few moments passed as they both watched the door.

"I know this is hard for you," the headmaster started, breaking the silence, but still keeping his eye on the door. "These times are not easy for anyone, Mr. Weasley. I can understand how much worse it could be for you. You know I am in close touch with your family. And I am certain you understand my connection with Harry. I do believe I know more than you think I do."

Ron looked at him, hoping he would look back. _This is pleasant,_ he thought.

"I know what you're up to. I know whose affection you seek. I know you think your life is nothing," he continued, still gazing at the door "But you must understand, suicide is not the answer. These dark clouds, bringing shadows that diminish our hopes and faith, will pass. Ending your life now is giving up and you—"

"But you see, sir," Ron interrupted, "Think of how much easier it would be for all of us. Without me, there would be one less person's life for you to worry about. My parents wouldn't have to bend over backwards trying to find me cheap clothing and books. Without me, Hermione and Harry could live a good life without me being in the way, or to care about. Of course, they don't care right now, but that's—"

"Preposterous, that's what it is. Both cared enough to bring you here where you belong. Fainting from ridiculous things like starving yourself and lack of sleep can cause dangerous effects. They did the right thing," he strongly confirmed, finally reallocating his attention to Ron.

"If they cared, they'd leave me there to die."

"Again, you're being foolish, boy. They love you more than you think."

"Who are you? My mother?" Ron said abruptly.

"If you would like to think of me that way," Dumbledore chuckled slightly, but quickly regained his composure. "Speaking of mothers, how would yours feel knowing she's lost her youngest son, when she thought he was the safest of her lot? Your brothers are in more danger than you are. The woman would lose her mind. And what about your sister? What would—"

"What do you care if I died anyways? Why is it that you have to talk me out of it? I already have justified reason of what I'm prepared to do, and I want to do it, so why?" he growled. Ron already couldn't believe all of the things he was telling the man. He had failed himself for there was no way he would be able to die under Dumbledore's watch.

"Mr. Weas—"

There was sudden thunderous pounding on the door. Not even a moment later, a cracking sound and a slamming of a door into the wall proved that the lock was broken, and someone had entered the infirmary by force. The noise had awoken some of the few patients in the wing. But it hadn't stopped there. There was the sound of a person running, hard rubber, possibly metal, against stone.

"Professor Dumbledore!" a deep, but loud voice echoed through the chamber. 

Dumbledore shifted his attention back to the door. He had been standing, so all he had done was take a few steps toward the intruder. A man with dark hair and robes as dark came into view. It was amusing though, how the black darkness of the man's attire had highly contrasted the already dark wards. _Must be Snape._

And right he was. 

"What so terrible has happened that you must parade in here disrupting these weak students' peace, Severus?" the older man almost scolded.

"Forgive me please," Snape started sardonically, "but the unconscious body of a girl is in the corridors. She's not breathing, and her pulse is barely there. But she's alive."

"Why didn't you bring her here?"

"I wasn't sure if I could… There's a knife stuck in her abdominal region. I think… I think it was a suicide attempt."

And then there was silence. 

Looking thicker by the second, Snape finally continued, "I didn't want to do anything to make it worse."

"You idiot!" Dumbledore cried. Tensing for a moment, he gave Ron an expression he couldn't read. With an artificially pleasant toned, "Excuse me" to Ron, he began his run out of the infirmary, without another moment to spare. The potions master immediately followed with an exasperated look on his face. Ron could hear their conversing while they made their way.

"Who is it, Severus?" he heard Dumbledore say from outside the door.

"I believe it's Ginny Weasley," Ron barely heard Snape answered, slightly panting.

 Ron's eyes went wide. He suddenly propped himself up on the bed. His mouth almost hung open after hearing the name. Absentmindedly staring at the bed directly opposite of his, he was stunned. He was in shock. How could it be that his baby sister had attempted suicide? It was unbelievable.

"W-why?" he sputtered at no one in particular. "How could… why did… No!" he croaked. 

He felt the bed shaking, before he realized it was him that caused it. Perhaps he was dreaming. Dreams were good, since bad things happening, like this, would all be just manifestations of the subconscious imagination. Ginny killing herself was only signifying that Ron wanted to die. Yes, it was all only a dream and soon, he'd wake up and everything would be fine, minus the fact that Ron's own attempts at killing himself were flattened by the universe's waves of misfortune.

"Must've dropped off while Dumbledore was ranting," he said to himself. _Shit,_ he thought, after realizing that he had been awake the entire time, and nothing was a dream and it was all happening. 

Suicide. His sister had tried to commit suicide. Everything in her life was perfectly fine, wasn't it? There was no reason for her to try something so foolish. _And possibly succeed_, his mind reminded him, sending a cold, chill feeling throughout his body. Ron continually told himself she was fine and that he would have a talk with her about this foolishness when she was back in proper form. But it wasn't as if Ron believed himself. He knew how the Weasleys were. They were stubborn, hot headed, determined and would never let anything get in their way. _Even when it comes to self mutilation and suicide_, he chewed over as he sighed. 

A steady flow of tears streamed from his eyes, and he knew what he had to do. Sliding off the bed, Ron decided he would go see her. As gruesome as the sight would be, Ginny was his sister, and he wanted to be there, even if he couldn't help in any way. His legs were weak and he slightly limped his way to the infirmary entrance. _A side effect from so much trauma_, he explained to himself when he noticed his lacking of good health. He shambled his way onward, till he met the door. Opening it slightly, and examining the outside to see if it were safe, he exited. Finally out of the medical environment, and away from the sterile smell, Ron looked about the corridor. _If only I knew where she was…_

There was only one way to go from the hospital wing, and that was straight down the hallway until one would hit an intersection. The corridor out of the wing was quite long though, and it was also dark. Torches were not usually lit throughout the school, so perhaps following lit paths was the path to following. Swallowing hard, out of distress and not fear of being caught, Ron started his journey to see his possibly dead sister, despite what the faculty would say. 

After a few moments of jogging, Ron heard people coming from down the corridor. He thought that maybe it was Filch or someone, but he didn't care. Keeping up his pace he hurried some more to find his destination. The only problem was that the people were coming in his direction. Perhaps it was Dumbledore and Snape. Perhaps they had Ginny with them. Maybe she had a chance to live… Ron hurried more till he was sprinting down the hallway.

Up along his path, Ron could see four figures dark figures making their way down the corridor. One was floating, in a position as if on a stretcher that wasn't there. He knew who they were. It was Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape with Ginny's floating body ahead of them. A sad sight in deed it was for Ron. He could feel his eyes watering seeing that his sister was in such a state. But what was worse was that the group had seen him as he raced toward them and Snape had stepped up to greet him.

"Weasley, what do you think you're doing here?"

Ron almost completely ignored the sneering man who had spoken to see his sister. Instead, he stopped in his tracks and slowly looked up at his professor. Trying his best to give an angry, hateful glare, all Ron could give was the expression of someone who was in severe emotional pain, for that was what the red was.

"Severus, leave him be," retaliated Professor McGonagall. She looked over at Ron and sighed. The trio of elders gave each other looks, and began a hasty pace once again. "You shall follow us back to the infirmary. We will explain when we know it's safe."

"When you know what's safe?" Ron inquired, furrowing his eyebrow, and trotted to reach up with the quick adults. "Are you trying to persuade me to believe that what caused that wound right there" — He pointed to his sister's blood drenched body— "was some kind of attack by someone other than herself? Snape said it was most likely a go at suicide!"

"That's Professor Snape to you, Weasley. And I had said most likely, not exactly," Snape bit back.

Ron glared at the back of the sallow man's head as he lagged behind. "Well… Then what else could it be? Death Eaters wouldn't dare come here after last year. And if they did, they'd most likely leave the Dark Mark to prove their genius. Ginny never did anything to anyone that would make them want to murder her, or attempt to! And no one would walk through the corridors at night with the Dark Lord out. Minus the Slytherins, of course… But even they wouldn't dare do anything under the Headmaster's nose would they? Maybe Malfoy would, but I highly doubt it. There's nothing to explain about suicide Professor. All I want to know if she'll be alright."

Shifting his gaze on to Dumbledore as silence echoed through the halls, he began to worry. Ginny was strong… She was a Weasley and her body could fight it, even if she didn't want it to. Pomfrey could help her. With her skills in the medicinal line, broken bones would heal in an instant, cuts would mend themselves like new, and punctured abdomens could be stitched up and magicked back to shape! Ginny could be saved. _I swear she'll be okay. _Ron then realized what he was staring at all along. Dumbledore. The man spent so much time worrying about Ron, had he not seen Ginny? 

"And I'd also like to know, Professor Dumbledore, why had you not noticed her?" he asked.

            And he was answered by more silence for a few moments. The old man with the crooked nose and long white hair finally spoke.

            "We shall talk about this at a better time."

            Finally reaching the entrance of the Hospital Wing, the three professors hurried inside, finding Pomfrey fretting all over the place about a missing Ron, and then a badly injured, unconscious student. Gathering certain materials to help with whatever procedure they were performing, they ran into a chamber that Ron hadn't noticed before. In all their concern to help Ginny, he found himself alone.

              Ron had almost fainted from the burst of emotion he felt running through his body. Surrendering to his weak body asking for rest, he made his way to his bed on the right side of the wards. The stone ground was cold against his naked feet, and in response, shivers ran throughout his body. At his bed, he silently climbed in and covered himself with sheets. On his back, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember the events of the day. All he could remember was the fact that his own tries at death were squashed continuously, and now, his sister was teetering on the line of life and death. 

_Why couldn't I've just ended my life last night?_ _Ginny would've been too upset to do anything to herself, and she would've been safe, _he told himself. Everything would've been better if he had just swallowed his guilt and did what he needed to do. And now, with his life in downward spiral into a fathomless hole, worse than it even was, Ron was confused. _Now what?_

A/N: Hey there! Wow…I'm really thankful for all the reviews! I hope this chapter was up to your expectations. Sorry if I disappointed any of you… It'll get better I promise! Hope you had a safe new years eve/day! 


	9. Teased

A stream of sunlight cascaded upon the Infirmary. Within the wing, several patients roused in their sleep. Surrendering to the bold light of the sun, they awoke and sat in their beds waiting to be tended to or checked by Pomfrey and other nurses of the ward. 

This group of rising students included Ronald Weasley. Though as his eyes flickered open, he didn't dare get up. It had taken the poor boy hours to fall asleep the past night. Thoughts had been flowing through his weary mind. Memories of the days when his friends loved him as he loved them haunted him. Reminiscences of the times they worked together to fight for what was right. Times when they were an inseparable team lurked the corners of his mind.

They all had parts on the team when they were younger. Harry was the brave, fearless leader and Hermione was the brilliant brain of all the operations. Didn't Ron have a part in it? He had always considered himself the trusty sidekick, with loyalty that never faltered. Of course there were times when their friendships had suffered from rows and petty arguments, but hadn't they always patched things up at the end? But it was different now. Hermione had taken but two positions of the team as well started another. The title girlfriend, or lover for all he'd known, was what she had now. Ron was now the member who was kicked off the island and became unstable, trapped in the hospital wing, until they could deport him to St. Mungos. Not only that, but his sister had suffered from some either sort of attack or self-inflicted mutilation. _Shit! Ginny,_ he realized.

All traces of the sadness his memoirs of past relationships with his friends left him, as a new sort of traumatic pain encompassed his soul and body. Quietly, he slipped off his bed and slid his bare feet into his beaten shoes to protect them from the chill floor. Without bothering to lace the shoes up, or even put them on properly, Ron stepped out from his curtained bedding area, and looked around the wing for any evidence of his sister and her well-being. 

The other nurses and occupants of the wing were too busy fretting over the conditions of everyone else to care for what Ron needed. It was either for this or the fact that his sister was teetering between life and death that they left him alone to do as he pleased. As Ron searched the bedsides, an occasional few would glance at him with mournful look on their faces. And they would be met with an impassive, inexpressive stare. And each time he turned to move further on, Ron would let out a sigh, and sometimes a yawn. 

Finally, at the end of the wards, there was a closed off bed Ron found. Intuition told him that Ginny was resting in there, recovering. _None of that divination crap, _he mused. Much to his chagrin, as he neared the drawn curtains and tried to open, the area was shut with a spell. Letting out another sigh. Perhaps it wasn't Ginny's bed. Giving into the growing propositions in his head, he decided he would just ask Pomfrey if he could see her. 

  Finding Pomfrey was indeed easy, as she seemed to be waiting for him to say something. She was waiting for him by his bed, he saw, with a tray of more concoctions in her hands. Wearing a sympathetic expression, for once, the old woman gestured for him to sit back down on his bed. Setting the tray on his side table, she began mixing the liquids into a goblet. Silence seemed to settle as the nurse worked and Ron just sat staring off into space. 

"So you've been up, I see," she stated nonchalantly, gazing at the pained boy.

Ron didn't bother to speak at all, nor did he want to see the woman in the face. For a few moments his mind was devoid of activity. It was still shock to him that everything was happening. And so fast was it going on. One moment he wanted to hurt himself, and the next, his sister's nearly murdered by herself or someone else. His hands were fidgeting in his lap as reality registered in his mind. Life was agonizing when one was constantly walking on shards of glass with a trail of blood behind, only to end scarred. Even more so when the people that were once considered friends leave you for abandonment. Only when Pomfrey shoved a cold goblet into his hands did he notice her talking to him.

"…. are visiting Ginny, even though I told them there was no point, seeing as she's out like a lamp, poor dear—"

Drinking the goblet of God knew what, he allowed the old woman to talk some more. _Rambler_, he mocked. Ron knew she was talking about Ginny, and it would be important to find out as much information as possibly could, but it annoyed him when people would never get to the point. As soon as the liquid was drained, he looked down at the inside of the goblet. Realizing how utterly disgusting the lumps left on the bottom were, he made a face. At this motion, the nurse finally stopped her blathering. 

"Done?" 

It was almost as though they said it simultaneously. Ron had finally looked up, but seeing the almost amused look on Pomfrey's face, he lowered his head. _I don't feel like getting a scolding for my attitude, thank you very much. _

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I am done. I was only stating that your sister had been severely injured, but after some procedures, we're quite certain that she should be coming around soon. Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter are seeing her at the moment. They had first come to see you, but I would not allow them to wake you, as you are—"

"You're rambling again," Ron interrupted. "Can I see her or what? I'm tired of this damn place—"

"Watch your tongue, boy!"

"Yeah, alright. I have things to do and… err… Classes to attend. Let me go," he finished. _Not to mention a life to end_, he thought sulkily. 

Madam Pomfrey's snippy, strict attitude was returning to her. It was most amusing as Ron watched the flaps of her nose flared. "I will not let you leave this wing until I have Dumbledore's consent. In my opinion, you're fine and you would be free to go, but as Dumbledore has his say in this matter… You take up a lot of space, Weasley. But I will let you go see your sister and your friends."

"You mean they're still here?" he asked. He heard her say that Harry and Hermione had stopped by, but he had not the idea that they'd stayed. 

"They wanted to wake you to see how you were. I told them off for even suggesting, so they asked to see Ginny. I believe they were hoping to stay long enough for you to wake up on your own."

_Well in that case, no, I don't need to see Ginny right now. _He didn't know how to approach the couple. The thought of them acting like newly weds made him sick, and it was painful. _Best friend… Love of my life…_With each time the thought would return to his mind, the more depressed it made him. Each time, his heart would grow heavier in his chest and there was no telling when it would finally explode. Seeing them in his sad state was something that Ron did not need. He did not want sympathy. He wanted a way out and a fast one at that. 

Nevertheless, the thought of Ginny's frail body lying on a hospital bed, white from blood loss, haunted Ron. As much as the redhead did not want to see his dating friends, there was nothing that could hold him back from seeing a hurt family member. Ginny was his only sister and he loved her dearly. If there were anything wrong, she would see it. She would try to help. How could Ron forsake her like he did? How could he have taken her for granted? No one could hold him back from seeing his younger sister.

"Where is she?" he asked, sliding off the bed, brushing off his pajamas. He gave the area above the bridge of his nose a squeeze to ease the pressure and pain of his racing mind. It did not help. Running a hand through his hair, he looked up expectantly at the nurse, waiting for an answer.

She seemed to hesitate slightly. "Are you sure you're alright? You're beginning to look rather sick again… Maybe you should rest a little more. It's possibly a side effect of the potion you just took."

"No, I'm fine! I just have a lot on my mind… I only want to see my sister," he practically pleaded. _And claim my life… Funny how that thought never seems to go away_, he mused.

"Very well. Follow me. But if at all, you feel any kind of… light headedness, nausea, anything, you come find me."

And with those words, Pomfrey lead the way back to the exact bedding area Ron found locked. It was a short, silent walk to the area, but to Ron it lasted hours. All that went through his mind was not of Ginny, but of what Hermione and Harry would be found doing as soon as the curtains were drawn. Standing by a lifeless body could get boring he was reluctant to admit. He remembered in his second year, when Hermione was petrified, Ron and Harry went to see her. It was not their original plan to visit her, but when McGonagall found them out and about when they shouldn't have been, they had no choice. Of course their visit was quite useful in finding out what was the monster of the Chamber that was attacking everyone, but even after a few minutes of standing and watching her, things got slightly boring, as Ron hated to admit to himself. Only God knew what they'd be up to in the ward alone and next to a limp Ginny.

They stopped in front of the curtain. Pomfrey took out her wand and muttered some words. In a split second, the once still curtains showed signs of faint movement. They were regular curtains again. And Ron finally heard noise coming from within. Someone was sobbing and crying loudly. He looked at the nurse beside him. She seemed to be surprised of the loud cries. Turning back to him, she whispered to him, "This is why I put a silence charm on the area… Don't want the girl to awake all my patients!"

Sure enough, as Ron helped draw back the curtains, there was Hermione howling into Harry's arms. Ron watched as his sweater was soaking up the tears from Hermione's eyes. Harry too seemed to look glum and sorrowed as he absentmindedly patted her back, with his attention focused on Ginny. Ron could've sworn that Golden Boy Harry had tears forming in his eyes. Hermione was just hysterical. "Oh Harry, why didn't I just go with her last night? Why, oh why?"

"It's not your fault, Hermione," Ron said when he found his voice. He was surprised at the sight before him, and a bit relieved as well. What astonished him though was Hermione's reaction to when she realized Ron standing there.

"Ron! I'm so sorry!" she shrieked, letting go of her mate.

Without any reluctance, Hermione practically dove at Ron. It was an act with such force that if Ron were any smaller, he would've been knocked onto his back. And she held onto him tightly with her arms almost strangling his neck and her face buried in his chest. Ron again couldn't help but feel lighter in the heart. But he dared not show it. Harry was right there; he didn't want him getting any ideas. Still, he relished every moment of her compassion, as it was rare she showed such emotion. Her mousy brown hair was unruly and he could tell she didn't take any time that morning to tame it, though it smelled sweet like a flower of some sort. He could feel her tears being taken in by his flannel pajamas; the moisture was warm against his skin. Ron felt his heart beginning to race. He didn't want to let her go for it felt like their bodies fit together perfectly like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. But perhaps he thought too soon, as she pulled away.

"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry you have to go through this all. I know how much you love Ginny. I know how passionate you are about your family. I'm so sorry, Ron, really I am. We both are!" Hermione managed to say between her heavy sobs. She was looking right into Ron's eyes. Her wet, glassy amber brown eyes surrounded by puffy eyelids were piercing into his own eyes that were tearing as his heart pounded like a series of cannon blasts.  

"We really should've been there for you more," Harry began. "Both of us should've realized that you were going through a lot to begin with."

Harry looked at Hermione. Ron was most disappointed when she broke their eye contact to gaze back at him. However, he continued to look at her. When did he let this girl get away? He had always figured that it would be her and him one day. But a series of pictures passed through his mind, like Krum, the Firebolt and Scabbers incident, and loads more. He had to shake his head to return to the present. Back on earth, Hermione turned her head to Ron again, still gripping him in a hug. Harry came over and put his hand on his shoulder. 

"Ron, we know why we found you in such a horrible state the other day. I was so hard on myself when I realized that it was so obvious…" Harry continued.

Hermione continued to watch Ron's face. He felt himself go red. _No, he really doesn't know… It can't be that obvious… He doesn't know that I love Hermione… He doesn't know it,_ he tried to convince himself. Turning to look at Harry for once, out of shame to look at Hermione, he extracted himself from her embrace, though most unwillingly. 

"You feel lonely because Hermione and I are always together. We didn't know you felt that way. You should've said—"

Ron's face was getting redder as Harry talked. It was always a bad sign when his face and hair clashed terribly color wise. Of course Harry was right that he was lonely, but it was more anger from the loneliness. It was also the feeling of being uncared for and shunned aside all the time. But could he tell this to them? At one time he thought he could, but not now.

 "How dare you think I brought this upon myself by not telling you? Who am I to step between you two up by proclaiming my insecurities on your relationship? I want to see you happy. I don't care if it kills me," Ron nearly yelled, but was surprised by the things he had just said. 

It seemed to surprise Hermione and Harry as well. They looked at him with their mouths slightly open with apprehension and shock. A few moments of silent tension building alarm passed. Harry seemed as though he were about to say something, but then shut his mouth closed. Never actually saying anything, his mouth and closed like a fish. Hermione on the other hand, shut her mouth and kept it shut. She then walked over to an empty chair and sat down, never taking her eyes off the two boys she knew as her best friends.

 Ron decided it was time to forget the two. He turned his attention to Ginny and walked over to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he took in the image of his kid sister, white skinned that contrasted highly with her fiery red hair. _Fiery like her spirit,_ he mused_, but gentle and warm like the air on summer morning._ He couldn't help but let out a sigh.

Harry seemed to finally find something to say. "You were trying to kill yourself… For us?"

Ron didn't say anything. He was tired of lying. By not answering, perhaps they would drop the subject. The true reason he came into the ward was to see Ginny, and not discuss the friendship between the three of them that seemed to be hanging by a thread. But Hermione seemed to find her own voice in the matter as she got up from her chair to sit next to Ron.

"He would never do something so stupid! Ron, look at me. I said to look at me, Ron. Good. Now tell me you didn't even consider something so… so… Selfish! Suicide, Ron? Suicide? If we didn't find you when we did, and if we hadn't brought you here, you would've died. Please don't tell me you really meant it when you told me to leave you that day. If you were gone, I don't know what I'd have done! Without you… Ron!" Hermione broke down crying again. "It's enough with Ginny in such a bad condition, and here you are telling us you wanted to die! It's so selfish!"

Ron turned and let his focus fall back on Ginny as his own tears deceived him and slowly streamed along his face one by one. It wasn't a selfish idea. They didn't understand the things he went through. Well aware he was, of Hermione who was crying into his shoulder. _Damn it, she's gotten so emotional. _Harry was rubbing her shoulder as she wept. Ron continued to look at Ginny's pale face. Maybe it wasn't a good idea, suicide. As appealing as it had sounded, maybe it wasn't as right as he had first thought.

"Ron, please, tell us you haven't been thinking so thick like that…" Harry spoke with his voice breaking mid-sentence. 

"Drop it. I'm not here to talk about this," Ron said with a firm and strong attitude, though his composure was the complete opposite. 

            Harry fell silent and Hermione stopped crying. "How did it all get to be like this?" she said, with sharp gasps of breathe between every other word. 

And no one answered. In fact, no one spoke for about a quarter to a third of an hour. For those several minutes Ron just grazed his sister's face lightly with his fingers, wit silent tears flowing steadily from his eyes. Hermione and Harry no longer existed, though they were standing by the bed as well, just watching Ginny. He had never imagined it to add so much more anguish and torment to his heart just to see her like that. And the fact that his two former best friends were standing by him, added more. Ron felt their pain as well. 

For those fifteen to twenty minutes, they were in silence. It was only until Madam Pomfrey had ordered them to retreat so that she could check on Ginny and how she was recovering. They all left together, with Ron depressed to leave her side. Ron was to stay in the infirmary, which he did not mind much anymore, but he decided to walk the to the door. The walk was silent as well; there wasn't much they could discuss anymore. As they neared the door, Harry stopped and turned.

"Listen, I left something back by Ginny's bed, I'll be back soon. Hermione, you go ahead, and Ron, get some rest, you need it."

Hermione retaliated though. "I'll wait. It's really alright."

"No, go ahead, I know you can find the common room on your own."

They stopped walking. There was an awkward pause. Ron, who was walking to the side, could feel tension building. "Hermione, he'll be fine alone, as will you. You don't have to be near each other all the time," Ron said with a sigh of irritation.

Hermione huffed. "Fine."

Harry turned to walk back to Ginny, but looked back to say a quick, "bye, see you in a minute." And it left Hermione with Ron alone. Turning to him, he noticed a confused expression on her face.

"It's funny because I don't remember him bringing anything."

Ron shrugged. "Eh, search me. I don't know what he'd want with an unconscious body."

Hermione glanced toward Ginny's ward, then turned to look back at Ron. Her eyes were still puffy from all her howling and crying, but all the same, she was beautiful to him. Not many people thought chipmunk faces were attractive, but what did it matter? She was beautiful in her own way, the way that Ron loved her to be. They stared into each other for another awkward moment. Letting out a weary smile, Hermione pulled Ron into another crushing hug. With a tender kiss on the cheek, she pushed back.

"Don't ever think about stupid things, Ron. We love you. I love you," she said, flashing another weary smile that was nonetheless warm and kind.

The door to the wing opened and closed as Hermione left. Ron watched her go, his heart pounding madly, but with the most aching feeling. As the door shut with a bang, he thought, _I love you, too._

Note: Hey readers, faithful, kind, forgiving readers… I'm so incredibly sorry it took me more than a month to get this chapter up! I had midterms at school, and so much work along with studying. I swear I couldn't find a decent lot of time to sit down and write. I really have to thank my reviewers for waiting so long for a new chapter! I hope you liked it… The truth finally surfaces… Or begins to, I guess you could say… I get a 5 day weekend next week, so I'm hoping I'll get at least one more chapter up during then. Stay safe!


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